#its an an open tulle side

[pathologicalreid]

in sickness and in health | S.R.

Minutes before your wedding is supposed to start, Spencer gets cold feet, and you have to find out why.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (a smidge angsty) content warnings: alzheimers, weddings, children, babies, sad!spencer, reader wears a dress and makeup, cursing word count: 1.8k a/n: so this became sadder than I had initially intended. also i decided to try something new and write in a different POV and i don't know if i like it. this is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins' new beginnings challenge, because nothing says new beginning quite like getting married! thank you for having this challenge!

If it were up to you and Spencer, your wedding would’ve taken place at a courthouse with no fuss, just rings and a certificate. Especially after he shot down your idea of a 24-hour wedding chapel in Las Vegas.

In your defense, you pitched it to him as an intimate wedding in his hometown, but he didn’t take the bait.

But when the team found out that the two of you were planning what they deemed unsuitable, they all volunteered to help throw together a ceremony and reception. Everyone was under the duress of Penelope at the time, but they all volunteered.

She could be very formidable when she wanted to.

Your now maid of honor’s eyes were shimmering as she carefully adjusted some of the last few strands of hair upon your head, you had managed to talk her out of a tiara, but to Penelope Garcia, a veil was non-negotiable. “You look gorgeous,” she says, “the perfect bride.”

Laughing uncomfortably, you turn to look at yourself in the full-length mirror and take a deep breath, “Thank you, Pen.”

“I know I may have slightly nudged you in the direction of a bigger wedding-“

“More like punted,” you interrupt, an affectionate smile on your face.

Rolling her eyes, she leaned over to grab her buzzing phone on the velvet chair in your ready room. “Whatever, I just think that after everything you and Spencer have made it out of, you deserve a celebration that reflected that,” she speaks passionately, as she always does when discussing people in love.

Turning around to look back at the mirror, the tulle of your veil cascading over your shoulders as you grew giddy. Your dress was a whimsical, white chiffon that fell to the floor and moved with you as you walked. Small straps of fabric were delicately draped over your arms for an off-the-shoulder effect, you had never felt more glamorous. Although, if there was a day for glamor, your wedding day would certainly qualify.

You snap your head around to see Penelope furiously typing on her phone, “Uh oh,” she whispers, looking at the screen.

Humming, you step off of the pedestal and over to her, careful not to trip on your dress, “What’s wrong?” You murmur, trying to see what was distressing her. Dread built in your stomach; the team couldn’t be getting called away? Two of its members were about to get married. This is why you should’ve just gone to the courthouse; you never should’ve let Garcia talk you into this.

Jolting you out of your panic induced stupor, she answers, “Something’s up with Reid.”

Your heart clenches, “Reid? My Reid?” You whisper, “Is he okay?”

The two of you jump when someone bangs on the door, and she moves to open it, just a crack at first – to see who it is – and then all the way open to reveal Luke on the other side. Naturally, the members of the BAU made up your wedding party, and Luke as the best man was the easy choice.

He was mostly dressed, save for the bowtie that remained undone around his neck, “I need to steal Y/N.” His shoulders were rising and falling quickly like he had run across the building.

“She’s getting ready for the wedding. Her wedding,” Penelope answers, gesturing back to you. “Besides, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

Really, you were mostly ready, you just needed to put your shoes on and line up. “There won’t be a wedding if we can’t get the groom out there,” Luke replies.

You warily approach the doorway, peeking around the door, “What’s wrong?”

“He just needs you,” Luke explains, gesturing toward you with his hands.

Nodding determinedly, you step out the door and run over to the other side of the building to where the groom’s ready room is, pulling the fabric of your dress up so that you don’t trip. Along the way, you pass a few guests, but you don’t stop.

It wasn’t news to most of them that you were a grounding force for Spencer, the two of you had been put through, as Luke put it, the wringer together and still managed to come out the other side. You skid to a halt in front of the door and knock quickly, “Spence, it’s me.”

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony,” he murmurs through the door, echoing the earlier sentiments of Penelope. You know he doesn’t believe in it, which only adds to your concern.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fidgeting with the doorknob just to discover it’s locked. “If you don’t unlock the door, I’m going to go find Derek and have him kick it down for me,” you threaten, wondering if the reminder of all of the people here would coax him out.

There was no response from the other side of the door.

Sighing, you turn to look at Luke, “Can you give us a minute?” He nods, letting you know he’ll talk to Garcia before walking down the long hallway.

Once he’s gone, you hear the tell-tale click of the door unlocking, “Garcia will kill you if you walk in here.”

“Penny isn’t here, baby. It’s just you and me, okay?” You speak lowly, “What’s wrong, my love?” Dropping your hand on the doorknob, you startle slightly when it turns and the door swings open.

You yelp when Spencer pulls you in, closing the door behind you before he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. Immediately, you feel his body relax against yours, “Isn’t this supposed to be bad luck?” He murmurs.

Humming, you return his hug gratefully, “We’ve had enough bad luck, don’t you think? It’ll be okay.” His arms loosen around you, and you pull away slightly so you can look up at him, placing your hands tenderly on his chest, thumbing the satin fabric of his lapels. “And besides, I’m not fully dressed yet. I’m fairly certain that means it doesn’t count.”

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, holding you out at arm’s length. “You’re perfect, and I’m…” His voice trails off as he takes a step back from you, sighing as he takes a seat in one of the white chairs in the ready room.

Tilting your head to the side, you felt the fabric of your veil flow to the side, “You’re what, Spence?” You ask, slowly approaching the chair he was sitting in.

He furrows his brows in apprehension, “I think I might be scared of you,” he answers candidly.

You couldn’t help the giggle that spurted from your lips, “Am I really that scary?” You inquire softly, seeking more answers from him. You saw him better now, the darkness of his tux offset by the purple bowtie and handkerchief, joined with the light florals of his boutonnière. Spencer’s hair was a mess, a tell-tale sign that he had been running his hands through it.

Clearing his throat, Spencer looks up at you with a look in his eye that you can’t quite place, “I passed by your room earlier, and I heard you laughing.” He took a deep, tentative breath, “I thought you sounded so happy, and now I’m not sure I can keep you happy.”

Sighing, you duck your head slightly, “Spencer,” you say seriously, “are we still getting married today?”

“What?” He says in disbelief. “Of course we are, that’s not- I’m sorry,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “We’re still getting married; I’ve quite literally never wanted anything more in my entire life. I’m just worried,” he speaks quietly.

Gingerly, you step closer to the chair before he reaches out for you, placing a hand on your waist and gently guiding you down until you are sitting on his lap. “You make me so happy, Spencer Reid. I know that somewhere in that gorgeous brain of yours you know that, but I also know that you are your own worst critic.”

You’re sitting sideways on his lap with your legs latticed on top of each other. Gingerly, he places a hand on your thigh and another on the small of your back, “You deserve everything you want in the world.”

“And I want you. Doesn’t that count for something?” You ask him, emotion beginning to rise in your throat – you cannot cry, then the wedding would really be delayed. “Spencer, I’m so ecstatic that at the end of today, I get to be your wife. That’s such a privilege to me. You and I, we get to be so fucking happy today. We deserve that.” You tell him gently, “We get to be married and go on our honeymoon and come home and we can tell all of your stories to your mom, and we’ll have a baby or two and we’ll be so fucking happy.” You swallow your emotion, looking up at the light in the hope that it will clear your tears. “For the rest of our lives, we’ll be so happy.”

Then it came, “I don’t want to forget you.” His voice is almost imperceptible, but you hear him still.

The ache in his voice feels like a stab to your heart, you were well aware that his mother had Alzheimer’s. She wasn’t having a good day today, but the two of you had gone to visit her in the morning. Ever since she was diagnosed, it’s been like Spencer has a storm cloud hovering over him – he can’t be tested for the gene markers, not for a few more years. Taking a deep breath, you reach over and smooth his hair back, “If you get Alzheimer’s, I will sit down with you every day and remind you. I’m going to walk down that aisle today and tell you that I’m going to love you in sickness and in health and I’m going to mean it.”

“I’m scared,” he murmurs, leaning into your touch.

Using your free hand, you reach up and tenderly wipe a tear from his cheek, “We can take it.”

He nods in agreement with you, “Together, as a team,” he concurs, a slight amount of confidence returning to his voice.

Resting your head on his shoulder, the two of you take your moment. The last moment before you officially unite as one, and you let that moment take as long as you need. “I should go,” you whisper, looking over at the clock, the ceremony was supposed to have started by now.

Spencer leans down and kisses you, “I’ll see you out there?” He asks expectantly.

Nodding assuredly, you reach up and wipe a smudge of lipstick from his mouth, “I’ll be there.”

During the ceremony, you impressively were able to keep yourself together, until you promised him you would love him in sickness and in health.

please remember to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

[allfearstofallto]

Yandere Arlecchino who expected her darling to put up a fight and instead found out they were planning a wedding for the two of them all along or just is like, "yes kidnap me its okay i'll go willingly!"

Out yandere the yandere

She's not crazy if I'm crazy too

Yandere Arlecchino x Fem! Reader

TW: Yandere themes, mentions of stalking

She wasn't surprised to see your home empty. All your things packed away, photos off the walls, clothes no longer in the closet. She wasn't surprised to see that you were gone. You were a smart girl after all, she expected nothing less from you than to be aware that you were being stalked. You must've noticed she was on the move, noticed that she was growing impatient with her lack of you in her life. She scoffed at just how much of your stuff you'd left behind, in so much of a rush that you'd rather leave without it.

What did surprise her was the sound of your door opening again, her heels clicking against the floor as she turned to face…you? A smirk must've formed on her face, but she made herself stifle it. Although the chase would've been nice, the feeling of hunting you down where you stood, this was better. Waltzing into her arms accidentally, not ever being able to get away again.

“Forgot something?” She cooed, crossing her arms over her chest.

But you didn't seem scared. Didn't even make an effort to run away. Arlecchino was aware that she was a stranger in your home. Not just any stranger, but a harbinger. Even if you didn't know who she was, you'd be able to feel the power in her energy, in the way she carried herself, yet you weren't afraid of her. Were you putting on an act? Did you have something planned? Her red eyes stayed on you, pupils never leaving your form, but just awaiting your next move.

“I don't think so,” you looked over the room once more, “I was pretty sure I packed everything.”

“You must've forgotten to leave then,” Arlecchino chuckled, her claw like fingers tapping against her arm, “or do you not realize what I plan to do to you?”

You hummed softly as you walked into the room, past her form. Delicate hands reached into one of the many boxes you had sat to the side. She merely watched you, waiting for the part where you scream or cry, even fight, but instead you lifted a dress bag from inside the box and opened the zipper. White lace and tulle filled her vision. You traced your hands down puffs and ruffles, showing her the rather complicated wedding dress.

She cocked an eyebrow, “You're getting married?”

“Of course, silly,” you said with a playful giggle, taking one of her hands into yours and interlocking her long fingers, “I'm getting married to you!”

[holybibly]

Heyy if your dark hours are still open…👀👀 would you mind sharing your thoughts about yandere Ateez concubine harem…? Or perhaps any harem that you can think of because I’m very much into this topic🤭🤭🤭

You know what? Today I wanted to be affectionate with you, damn bunnies, and spoil you with tenderness and sweets, but you just provoked my dark side with all these requests, didn't you?

So change of plan, bunnies; we're going down the dark and rough road. I love yandere's concubines, Ateez. God, can we think of anything more seductive and more dangerous than that? From now on, you should send me such requests more often, bunnies. Feed this demon within me.

You entered the palace as the wife of the new emperor. His fourth wife. His glittering war trophy.

When war came, your world was changed beyond recognition. Flames and ashes consumed the luxury and grandeur of the palaces, and the jewels turned to dust, leaving only you, the Ice Princess of the Northern Mountains.

Your life was made of crystal and your heart was made of ice stronger than diamonds, and it was this cold and lunar beauty that caused you to be forcibly married.

Yes, you may have entered the palace as the Emperor's wife. But you were a nobody within the high walls of the palace, just a sad reflection of past your greatness.

Everyone knew that the Emperor had a large harem, not counting the three older wives, but what really surprised you was that it was not only made up of girls, but of young men as well. There were eight of them. Each one more beautiful than the last, each one unique and unrepeatable.

Until one fateful night, you had never met them or seen them in person. It was a lunar festival, and you were its queen. Dressed in silk and the finest translucent tulle, as if kissed by the moon goddess herself, you sparkled and attracted the attention of everyone around you. Everybody, but not your husband. He didn't even look at you, brushed you aside as if you were an annoying mosquito, and sent you off to talk and smile at the guests while he went off to fuck another beautiful concubine.

And then, for the first time in your life, you had a meeting with the concubines of his other harem. And your world was turned upside down for the second time in your life.

It was love at first sight, a fire that burned through his veins and poisoned his mind. And it was all because of you. It was your fault that Wooyoung couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't laugh, and couldn't live. All of a sudden, his whole world was reduced to you and your heavenly, icy beauty. He passionately wanted to melt that ice, make you beg, squirm, and moan as he fucked you unconscious and painfully, filling you with his sperm and marking you as his property.

The only thing Wooyoung ever had in his life was his beauty. He grew up in poverty, living on scraps of food and the small amount of money he was able to pick up from the dirt. That is, until the day the current emperor, who was still a prince at the time, came upon him in one of the alleys, on the run from his guards. Wooyoung's dark fox eyes captivated him at once, and as if he had fallen under his spell, the emperor brought him back to the palace to be his concubine.

Wooyoung was a greedy concubine; there was always something that was not enough for him. He wanted to swim in luxury, to drown in gold and silk, to have diamonds, and to own the whole damn world. The best should be his, and so it was; the emperor gave him everything and more that Wooyoung had a desire for. And now you were in his sights. He wanted you so much that it ate him up from within and almost drove him mad, greedily and viciously, in the most horrible way in the world.

Yes, Wooyoung was greedy, and if he had to kill the Emperor to get you, he wasn't going to think twice about doing it.

One look at you could bring him to his knees. He would crawl to you like a pet if you commanded him to, and that desire was stronger than the hatred he felt for the whole of the world. You could tame his wild temper, and Mingi would want nothing more than for you to straddle him and ride his cock day and night, tearing the skin from his back and shoulders, choking him, and biting him until his will was broken. Mingi was uncontrollable and capricious, passion and fire raging in him, burning everything in his path, but your element was ice, burning him harder than hell itself.

Once upon a time, Mingi was a warrior, one of the great generals of his country, until the war came and destroyed his entire life. It took everything from him—his will, his family, his home. Yes, the war had taken everything from him except for the poisonous rage and the dark, vicious passion that was boiling in his veins. He was brought to the palace in chains like a slave, and that very night the Emperor took him by force and made him one of his concubines. This only made him bitterer.

Mingi was venomous and aggressive, biting and scratching until he bled, but you, you did something to him—you forced him into submission by your very presence, without him even knowing it. The wild, unbridled storm inside of him became the icy surface of the lake, soothing and healing. And Mingi wanted peace. He wanted the touch of your icy hands on his heated skin and cold kisses on his lips. He wanted you.

What is passion if not a flame that is a destroyer of all things on its way to its goal? And Mingi was full of fire to burn this damn palace to the ground to take possession of you.

He was sin clothed in a human body, debauchery and lust embodied in an image of heavenly beauty. The whole of Seonghwa's life had been nothing more than a constant stream of sex and an endless series of lovers. He could not get rid of this feeling; it was like frost on his skin. This constant, painful need was scratching him from the inside out. But when he saw you, all his thoughts were focused on you—on your pure, untouched skin that he wanted to lick and bite, on your slim waist that he wanted to squeeze as he fucked you continuously. On those red, seductive lips that would be simply amazing when wrapped around his dick. It was you he wanted, and for the first time in his life, Seonghwa wanted you to be the one. He didn't want anyone else, only you. 

Before he entered the palace, he was one of the most sought-after whores in the brothel, famous for his devilish beauty and his languid, cat-like gaze. There was a line of people waiting for him, and Seonghwa was more than happy to accept them all. He was insatiable, wanting to fuck anywhere and anytime, trying the most sinful and unusual things. He was a real slut. But when the emperor heard about Seonghwa and visited his brothel one day, everything changed. Suddenly, he was no longer just a whore; he became Imeretar's concubine.

Seonghwa's hunger could not be quenched, and one partner would never be able to cope with it. But here you are, pure and radiant like an angel, beckoning him with your immaculate beauty. You were stronger than his dark, insatiable demon of lust. He wanted to corrupt you, to make you like him, and to make you dependent on him, just as he had become dependent on thinking about you.

It is said that whores don't know how to love, but they know how to desire. And there was enough darkness in Seonghwa to consume and destroy the world; to possess your purity and chastity. Then let the world be plunged into darkness until you are alone with him.

Yeosang had never been interested in anything at all. The world was too boring and dangerous for him. He could never care less about it. If he could, he would stay safe and comfortable in his bed for the rest of his life. You were different—distant and cold, but with an inexplicable thirst to live. You wanted to see all the things around you, to experience the cultures and the art. The world was interesting to you, and that was a source of irritation to Yeosang.

Everything about you was fragile and exquisite, and the fact that you didn't see it was what made Yeosang so angry. Don't you see, little butterfly, the world is terrible and dangerous. You would be much better off with him in his bed, far away from anything that could harm you in any way. Perhaps you would finally understand that you shouldn't run away from the safety and comfort of his bed if he were to break you. If that helped, Yeosang would want to destroy you and fuck your little curious brain until you thought only of him. He would spend hours warming you with his dick, days kissing your cold lips, and smothering you with his attention and love.

Yeosang was always aware that one day he would be part of the emperor's household. He had been prepared for this since he was a child, pampered and protected from the whole world, so that there would not be a trace of dirt on his silky, snow-white skin. Always waiting for the Emperor to visit his chambers and warm his soft bed, albeit temporarily. Yeosang almost never left his room, but like all concubines, he had to attend the Moon Festival. And that's when he saw his fragile butterfly. And like everything beautiful in this world, you were too easy to break. Yeosang wanted to protect you, hide you between his sheets, and shower you with care.

Yes, beautiful things broke easily, sometimes too easily—delicate butterfly wings, flower petals, crystal jewelry. But Yeosang wanted to see how the most beautiful thing in the world—human life—broke.

He wanted to eat you alive. Sinking his teeth into you and never letting you go, you awakened in him this wild, all-consuming hunger that he could not satisfy with anything else. You were the most delicious dish of all, and your taste was his only desire. San had always been a little insatiable, wanting more attention, wanting to love more, wanting to more sex, wanting everything this world had to offer him. It was never enough. You walked past him without even looking in his direction, the trail of your perfume settling on his skin and seeping into his body, poisoning him as you went. He wanted you to pay attention to him, to smile at him, to love him, to touch him. Oh, he would never let you go, he would fill you with his cum over and over again, and it wouldn't be enough for his taste. If he could, his dick would be in your pretty pussy all the time, so warm and delicious. He was in desperate need of you, he was hungry for you, and this hunger was all-encompassing.

Ever since he was a child, San had had a voracious appetite, always in need of a bigger and sweeter bite to temporarily fill the emptiness inside him that was growing with him. He had everything he could ever wish for; he had grown up in a loving and wealthy family with titles, but the dark hunger that plagued him was terrible. No matter what it was, he was always in need of more. So one day, when the emperor asked if he wanted to join his harem, San didn't hesitate to accept, but the hunger didn't go away.

You were the most delicious forbidden fruit of them all, and San was desperate to sink his teeth into you. He could almost feel the heavenly sweetness of you on his tongue, and it was driving him wild.

The sky could crash and burn all around him, and he wouldn't care, as long as you could fill him up and satisfy him.

There was no one in this world who could ever be like him. There was no one like Hongjoong. There was no limit to his pride and his greatness, and any praise You never praised him, you never sought his attention, and you were never enchanted by his sharp mind, his sweet voice, or his beauty, which could only be rivalled by the devil himself. And Hongjoong hated it. He hated how much he wanted your attention and your love. He wanted you to worship him, idolise him, and devote your whole life to him. He had to have you in all ways, even if those ways were darker than the night itself.Hongjoong wanted to see you in his golden bed, stretched out on the silk, while he was ravaging your body. He wanted to hear the endless moaning of his name as his cock tore apart the little cunt that was yours. He was in need of it, so much so that his whole body ached.

Hongjoong was a trophy of war, just like you. He was a real prince, who was supposed to be a king one day. His ego knew no bounds, and he was cruel and daring. Of course, the whole of the palace was conquered by the magnificent prince dressed in gold - all of them, except for you.

Yes, Hongjoong was a true prince, and one day he would overthrow the emperor and take his rightful throne, and like every emperor, he had to have his empress. You may not see him now, but the day will come when Hongjoong will be the only sunshine that illuminates your life. And he couldn't wait for it.

Yunho has never been the victim of jealousy. He has always been the recipient of praise and adoration, a constant reminder of how much he is loved. Yunho had no idea how jealousy could be. Or so he thought, at least.

That night, when he saw you in the light of the moon, he had hatred for the whole damn world. How dare he look at what belonged to him? He envied all those who could speak to you so freely; he envied all those who could pronounce your name; he envied his emperor, who did not appreciate your beauty and who humiliated you. Damn it, Yunho was jealous of the very air you were breathing. He desperately wanted to be him—to live inside you and melt into your skin. He wanted to melt into you without a trace.He would have loved to take you to his bed, to kiss every inch of your skin, to fuck you long and slow, and to shower you with compliments and praise. He would like to have you in his arms all the time, writhing and moaning with desire and need. For him, you are the only thing he needs in his life.

Yunho used to be just a servant in the palace. But he caught the Emperor's eye. That very night, he entered the emperor's chambers as his new concubine. Yunho knew about the others; he knew that he was not the only one, but that never bothered him; he was able to share the attention of the emperor. Except you. You were his own, and even the world was not worthy of seeing you.

It would be so easy to have the entire palace blinded, so that no one else but Yunho would have to see your celestial beauty.

Jongho was a man too proud for his own good. In his mind, it was beneath his dignity to pay attention to others and smile sweetly at them. Jongho was the spoiled, arrogant son of one of the most important palace officials, and when his father had the chance to get close to the emperor, he naturally gave him to the harem. But even so, he still considered himself to be better than everyone else, even Hongjoong, who was a prince in his own right.

Jongho was the one who first saw you, quite by chance, when he visited his father on the night you were appointed as the emperor's fourth wife. The Emperor was a real fool not to see how brilliant and magnificent you were—a real crown jewel. You were a symbol of power, strength, and might, an enslaved princess of a once great country, and a black flame of desire flared up in Jongho—he wanted to own you completely.

He wanted you for himself—your thoughts, your will, your body, and your life. He wanted you to sit by his side, to be covered with jewels, and to bear his children. It was easy for him to imagine his hand wrapped around your fragile throat as he fucked you into the mattress, you begging and moaning for him, wanting to be filled with his cum.

Fueled by his selfish desires, his fixation on you became increasingly harmful and dangerous.

Out of all the trophies in the world, there was nothing that was more attractive to Jongho than you. And on the way to what he wanted, murder was never a serious matter for him.

[jaded-jezz]

Don’t Trip

Another Jack one-shot obvs

Please do not repost, reblogs are appreciated.

Jack Champion x F!Reader

☁︎Fluff

summary: Just Jack being a gentleman without realising.

I’ve been super excited to go to Jack’s movie premier ever since he auditioned. It wouldn’t be our first event as a couple but this time it seems as if the entire world knows about it as it’s no longer our secret.

When we posted our anniversary photo dump on Instagram and some sickeningly cute TikToks, our followers have risen dramatically and the response has luckily been way more positive than we expected. We didn’t realise that our fan base overlapped so of course they were all ecstatic when finding out their suspicions were correct.

Jack and I were in our taxi queueing for our joint entrance onto the carpet. Both our palms were sweating yet Jack gripped mine tighter when I tried to move to wipe it.

“Are you nervous Champion?” I jest

“Me? Pfff no way” he replied before widening his eyes to show he was lying, “I’m petrified”

We look into each others eyes and before we know it we are being told to leave and expose our long kept secret and safe privacy to the flashes of cameras.

He doesn’t let go of my hand once, in fear that he may lose me to the crowds of interviews trying to get the first interview of the new hot couple. It makes me smile to myself as although I’ve done many premiers before, he still keeps an eye on me.

We move to the line of photographers and I check for the marks on the floor directing each celebrity to the correct angle and lighting for their photos. Jack goes in first and I follow once he moves up the marks.

I have to pick up my dress due to the weight of the detailed beading, lace and tulle as I walk confidently to the first space. The awkwardness hits me as I try to kick around my dress to stop the train from bunching up so much as I want the cameras to pick up on my teams hard work.

Suddenly an angel from heaven, my knight in shining armour comes to the rescue.

I barely hear Jack’s voice over the shouts, flashes and the swelling of stress in my ears but it’s loud enough to start to bring me back to earth and to a calmer state.

I look down to see he has crouched to start to straighten out the long floral train. He glances up at me and gives me a wink as he feels me look over my shoulder at him.

“Don’t worry, I got you!” He laughs as he try’s to check my face for any signs of continuing worry.

I offer my hand and pull him round next to me so that we can have photos together. The paparazzi go even crazier, as if Jack’s previous action didn’t have a loud enough reaction.

We laugh at the eruption and a strong wave of serenity washes over me as I lean in closer to my boyfriend.

“You look so stunning that I had to help you, I hope you don’t mind,” Jack leant into the side of my head. “You are a saving grace Jack, and thank you” I whisper back.

I want to thank everyone who like/reblogged my first post, it means a lot. I did not expect any interaction at all so thank you!

My best friend helped me to check over this so if its bad, blame it on her plz and thx!

Requests are open, so send them no matter how big or small you idea is.

Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.

[dreamtofus]

burning desire

Summary: You and Daryl spend a night together (smut)

Word Count: 896

i've got a burning desire for you baby

masterlist

"The pale moonlight shines in from the white framed windows, shrouding the two of you in a soft glowing light. The homely house blows with cold air, which makes the tulle-like curtains dance around the frame’s edges and leaves your skin weeping for warmth. Tonight, the old suburban home is silent, except for the breathy moans."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . *₊ °

The pale moonlight shines in from the white framed windows, shrouding the two of you in a soft glowing light. The homely house blows with cold air, which makes the tulle-like curtains dance around the frame’s edges and leaves your skin weeping for warmth. Tonight, the old suburban home is silent, except for the breathy moans.

Daryl’s heavy hands dig deep into your dainty delicately set hips, leaving quaint dents in their wake. Cold fingertips gently trace the puffy under-eye of your heated face, followed by his dull mauve lips brushing your mouth with gentle kisses to coax it open.

A rough hand gently gropes your chilled chest through your lightly laced top. His hand toys with the buds of your breasts, drawing a gasp from your freshly plumped lips.

“Fuck, I fucking love you, honey.” You look up at him through damp lashes, fluttering them softly.

“I know yer do bunny,” He holds your face like the morning paper, poised between his pointer and thumb, “Can’t think of anyone I love more than my baby.”

His words have you locked in a trance as you remove your lace top, allowing Daryl to unclamp your bra. You allow him to unthread your arms from the strappy confinements, garments dropping to the floor with a soft thump.

His knees bend to position himself at a lower angle. His teeth latch onto the valley of smooth skin between your breasts, suctioning the dipped space. From the center of your bust to the slack band of your jeans, he paints purple violets that will bloom over time.

His knees are planted on the floor as if they’re the roots of his strong frame while he removes each button from its denim enclosure, struggling a little. You take notice and aid him, pulling your worn blue jeans off. Your chin dips down so you can place your gaze upon him. Daryl’s gruff face is situated between your thighs, his paws set your body on fire while he plays with your panties.

You shake your head in disapproval and slap his roaming hands away, making him get up in response. He looks at you with a stupid look on his face, like he did something wrong.

You simply simper, taking his hand and leading him to the couch instead. Your back clashes with the icy leather of the couch as Daryl climbs on top of you, both of his arms placed on either side of you.

His voice is rough but whiny as he whispers into your ear, “What do yer want from me, girl?”

Your voice quivers with a response, “I want it all.”

He heartily laughs and grabs onto your frilly underwear, tugging it down and over your feet. He stares at your raw body for a few moments, making you scrunch up in embarrassment.

You prop yourself up and trace your fingers around the hem of his shirt, slowly creeping them under. Daryl flinches as if you burned him when you make contact with his bare skin and trace his V-line. He decides to take his crusty grey shirt off himself.

Wrapping your arms around him, you feel the small raised abrasions littered across his back. A pang of sympathy shoots through your heated heart as you make eye contact with him. His face is turned away from you as if he is embarrassed, hiding his deep emotion.

You pull yourself closer to him to giggle into his red-tipped ears, “No one loves a redneck more than his baby.”

He chuckles at this before cunningly unleashing a rough attack on your lips. His hands grab at your sides, lighting a fire in their wake. You can’t help but let an intimate moan burn through your lips, opening them up to Daryl.

The sound of your fingers undoing his zipper cuts through the air. You undo the hard metal buttons of his raw denim pants, excitement building within you. You palm his hard-on through the rough navy cloth, only teasing him.

You let your arms fall to your side, allowing Daryl to remove his jeans. His boxers are dark grey cotton, smoothing over his rigid curves. Your fingers hook into his band, tugging it down to reveal his cock.

The couch's armrest supports your upper back while he aligns himself with you. He slowly presses into you, with a shuddering exhale leaving his lips.

Your legs hook around his lower thighs and your fingers claw into his shoulders. Your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck while he slowly picks up the pace.

“Fuck, yer so tight baby.”

Your jaw clenches as a more consistent pace is reached. Daryl’s hand snakes between the two of you to rub delicate circles around your clit, bringing you to a high. “

“Want me to stay in ya forever, huh?” He teases you.

You shut your eyes, letting the sensation override your body. Releasing your arms from his shoulders and your legs from his, you let yourself go limp in his arms.

Daryl pumps into you a few times before releasing it onto your heaving stomach. After he pulls his boxers up, Daryl takes the thrown panties and wipes himself off you. Squeezing himself down next to you on the couch, he wraps an arm around you.

“Yer alright..?”

With a nod and smile, you turn to cuddle into him for the night.

your oasis of warmth.

[sulumuns-dootah]

26.12. Leviathan - Banquet for two (18+)

    ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

₊˚⊹.* The Yule festival of Hell *.⊹˚₊

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

    ༺☆༻

The halls of the Hades castle are so eerie during the night while everyone is away. Or at least somewhere else in the castle. More precisely in the grand hall where the annual holiday banquet is thrown. Everyone who means something is there. Guests from Hades as well as all the other countries in Hell. Everyone except for the king of Hades, Leviathan himself.

You were excited for the banquet. You've even had a dress made specifically for this occasion. But instead of everyone talking about how gorgeous it is, everyone is discussing the absence of Leviathan. Not to sound dramatic, but it's like you're almost invisible since someone who is not there is more important. As if the guests didn't know how much Leviathan hates being around other people.

With a slight irritation you decide to leave under the guise of bringing Levi some food. If someone's absence is more interesting, then why not be absent too? Leaning to your side to Glasyalabolas, you let him know that you'll go check up on the missing king. He hands you the plate which was meant to be eaten from by Leviathan after putting a portion of the king's favorite fish steaks on it.

So now you're walking through the halls to Leviathan's quarters. Originally you thought about just going to your room and eating the steaks yourself, but you kinda feel bad for the king. The heavy expectations laying on him to be social despite having a severe agoraphobia. No wonder he spends most of the time hiding away in his rooms.

When you finally reach the door to his room, the air suddenly turns cold. The knocks on the massive doors resound in the empty hall. After a short while a voice beckons you to come in.

The room is colder than in the hall and quickly looking for Leviathan, you find out why. One of the windows is open and he's sitting in the windowsill, looking out on the city covered in snow. It's already dark, but the street lamp light bounces off all the white and creates a glow on its own.

“I've brought you some food, your majesty. Your absence is the main topic of discussions.” you say with a hint of bitterness.

“Then why aren't you out there gossiping too?” Leviathan answers without even looking your way.

“I was bored. No matter how important those devils are, they can't uphold an interesting conversation if their life depended on it.” you sigh and set the plate on the windowsill right by Levi's legs. This seem to finally break him from the trance of the glowing white cityscape and he looks at you.

“That's a lovely dress. I want a shirt made out of that fabric.” he says plainly and moves to sit with his back turned to the outside, burning you with his gaze.

“Sure, I'll let the seamstress know.” you say, happy that finally someone noticed.

“Say, you were bored at the celebration, would you maybe keep me company here then? I'm certain I can uphold a decent conversation much more than those fools.” Leviathan jumps off the windowsill, taking the plate with him to the bathroom. You follow him, uncertain what will happen, but as it turns out, he's decided to enjoy his fish steaks in the comfort of his thankfully empty bathtub. You wouldn't want to get your dress wet if he invited you along into the bathtub too.

But it seems just that happens. Leviathan sits down on one end of the marble tub with plenty enough space left for you and the volume of your dress. The many layers of tulle help cushion the hard surface. Levi places the plate down between the two of you and starts eating. The steaks look good, but you know your manners and don't take any unless he offers you one.

None of you speak up until the plate is empty. Leviathan then sets the plate outside of the bathtub and reaches out to feel the material of your chiffon shawl, ”Such a soft material. It must feel even better constricting around my neck. Would you do that for me?”

“Uhm... Excuse me?” you blink, startled that he would request something so intimate from you.

“I believe I made myself clear. But I understand if that's too straight forward of me.” he sounds a bit disappointed. As if shrinking back he rest his back on the bathtub edge and leans his head on the rim with closed eyes, “If that's all, then you can go.”

“N-no, you majesty I would feel honoured.” you're quick to take off the shawl and scrunch it up into something resembling rope. Hopefully it's strong enough.

“Good, then get to it.” Leviathan opens his eyes and lifts his head back up. With slightly shaky hands you wrap the delicate fabric around his swan neck. At first you're unsure if you should really be doing this, but if his majesty wishes to be choked, then who are you to question him.

Remembering the stories from demons who were punished for choking him lightly, you try to choke him with all your strength. Hopefully the fabric can withstand such abuse. It seems that Leviathan's pleased with the amount of air he's depraved of, as evident by his eyes rolled back and growing erection.

“T-tou...ch... me...” he demands in a gasp for oxygen when you allow him to take at least some air in so he doesn't suffocate for real. His demand makes your heart race even more. Is he even thinking straight at this point? Before you have any more questions, he grabs your free hand and places it on his now painful boner. Or so you assume, with how much heat it radiates.

You're quick to free him of his constraints to uncover his throbbing and already leaking dick. It makes your mouth water, but just like the fish steaks before, you weren't invited to taste it. Only to touch.

Almost instinctively your hands starts to glide along his shaft, making him gasp for air more franticly. Playing with his tip, collecting more of his precum has him thrusting into your hand, desperate for more friction.

It feels kinda weird to have this much power over the king of a whole kingdom. Have him fully at your mercy. Normally in this situation you'd be also aching for release, but something about this scenario has you feeling like you've already come multiple times.

Slightly distracted, you don't notice your hand loosen up the tension on the shawl around Levi's neck. “T-tighter... s-so... close..!”

Realising your mistake you tug the fabric more tighter than before and that seems to be enough to push Leviathan over the edge. Spurting ropes of milky cum all over his belly and getting some on your dress. If it were any demon you'd be furious, but since it's His Majesty Leviathan, of course you forgive him.

“Not bad, but I still suppose I should teach you how to properly choke someone as there are some mistakes you've made.”

    ༺☆༻

But wait, this demon also has a gift for you!

"I suppose I should gift you with a noose, just like all of my other subordinates. Yet I feel like a necklace would suit your neck much more. "

[magalidragon]

❄️❄️dashing through the snow ❄️❄️| Jonerys Winter Wonderland | teaser

For prompt Sexy Sleigh Ride 🛷 | also I get my runaway bride fix too 🤭

Tulle flew over her face again; her legs went out from under her, and she was sure now she was showing off her undergarments to the world if anyone decided to take a peek. She cursed in Valyrian, struggling to upright herself, gathering skirts and tearing what she could, and now she was barefoot.

In the snow.

In the winter.

At Winterfell.

And she had no true escape plan.

"At least I'm out," she mumbled, looking up at the open window where she'd fallen from. She took a deep breath and turned, scanning around where she'd ended up.

She was on the north side of the castle, near the stables. The godswood was over to the west, a bit too close for comfort. The kitchens were on the far south side which was good because it was less likely for her to be caught by some cater waiter. All the guests should be seated, but she couldn't risk it.

"Daenerys Targaryen!"

Oh shit.

Dany whipped her head up, in time to see a flame red flash in the window she'd pushed herself out of. "Fuck," she mumbled. It was either Cat or Sansa, both of whom were the worst people in the world and now the hunt was on. She really had to get the fuck out of here.

Keep calm, keep calm.

The cold was starting to get to her, her arms bare in the floaty dress which looked like she'd been painted in feathers. It was beautiful. It was expensive. It was designed by her future sister-in-law.

And she hated it..

It was also not conducive to a winter outdoor wedding or escaping from the roof of a castle. The neck tied around her in a halter style, with rows and rows of floating feathery tulle and lace, fanning out into a train that was longer in the back than the front and was designed to show off the crystal studded heels she’d be wearing and also the matching coat. The coat, of course, she’s left upstairs. Damnit.

The ground was frozen solid, what little not covered in fluffy white snow feeling like cement beneath her bare feet. She gathered her skirts, her skin still flushed and warm from the adrenaline of the escape, and she ignored the beginnings of numbness in her toes, hurrying towards the stables.

There had been a plan, since they'd be going to the other side of the castle for the reception in the great hall, to have the "newlywed car" be a gilded sleigh pulled by reindeer. Yes, fucking reindeer. No horses for the Starks, no, they had to go find bloody reindeer. Like she was Mrs. Claus running off for a getaway weekend with Santa. She would have preferred a dragon.

Unfortunately there were no dragons to be had, so Dany had to settle for a reindeer.

Along the stables the reindeer were already hooked up to the newlywed sleigh, along with several others that would shepherd guests back and forth. Like Christmas Ubers or something. She could not believe the shit that Robb's family wanted to pull for this wedding. It was seriously the event of the decade, but she was going to throw a massive wrench into that plan.

Dany was surprised she wasn't hearing whistles and dogs barking-- wolves in the case of the Starks-- being set off to hunt her down and drag her bodily back to the godswood to continue the wedding. "What are you doing?" she hissed to herself, her head buzzing.

Running away from a miserable future.

Gods, she had to get out of here. She was freezing, she had no shoes, and honestly she just had to ride this psychosis to the end and figure it out later.

Missandei, her maid of honor, would undoubtedly know what happened when no wedding occurred and she’d hightail it to her hotel at the B&B in Wintertown, so Dany might as well head there. She glanced sideways.

At the reindeer.

“Bingpot,” she muttered, sprinting to the sleigh. She clambered up and into the monstrosity, silver and bedecked with bells and ribbon. The reindeer hitched up to it turned its head to curiously peer in her direction. She lifted reins and called out. “Mush!”

Nothing happened.

Hmm. “Go!” she shouted. She tugged on the reins. She knew how to ride horses and grew up with them. Reindeer were just fluffy horses with antlers right? Nothing again. The reindeer turned its head back around and carried on eating from the container attached to the hitching post. Dany closed her eyes, dripping her head. “What are you doing?” she repeated, rhis time a whisper.

“Yes, what are you doing?”

The voice, raspy and deep behind her, came from beneath the flannel blankets piled in the seat behind her. Dany screamed, throwing the reins in the air, startled and that did it. The reindeer pulled his head from the food and immediately began to run, making for the open gate.

Damn a sleigh moved fast.

Wind caught at her skirts, pulling them back around her and she flailed, caught off guard and not secure in her seat.

Owner of the voice cursed, tossed a cigarette she hadn’t even smelled or noticed over the side into the snow and jumped over from the back into the seat beside her, a blur of black leather and denim. He snatched the reins and pulled on them, bringing the reindeer to a manageable trot, and brought the sleigh over to the side of the main drive out of the castle grounds.

And the man she was in love with— who was definitely not her finance— whipped his head around, dark curls flying about his pale face and his gray eyes flashing.

“Daenerys Targaryen what the fuck are you doing?”

Dany didn’t even think— she hadn’t so far— blurting out: “I’m running away.”

There was a quiet beat, and then he smiled, long and slow, white teeth flashing canine like against his dark beard. “Well. We best get going then.”

And Jon snow turned away from her and snapped the reins, the reindeer running off and speeding the sleigh away from Winterfell.

[goforth-ladymidnight]

The Gown

Pairing: Tamlin x Feyre (Feylin)

Word Count: 1.5k

Rating: T

Summary: Inspired by a prompt @foxcort once wrote (that I cannot find but have never forgotten), in which Tamlin sees Feyre in The Wedding Dress for the very first time.

Also tagging @bookishfeylin, who loves Feylin, too. Sorry if I missed anyone else who might have wanted a tag!

For those who want to read it on AO3, it's there, too, but it's here in its entirety below the cut:

“Forgive the intrusion, your High Lordship.”

As one, Tamlin and his closest advisors looked up from the map spread out on his desk to see the High Priestess standing in the doorway. He ignored Lucien’s grimace and cleared his throat. “Yes, Ianthe. What is it?”

She dipped her veiled head in a graceful bow and continued, “I know it is a most inopportune time—” He could hear Lucien’s metal eye roll in its socket. “—but your consort wishes to speak with you in her private quarters right away.”

“Feyre?” Tamlin startled as he realized that Ianthe was alone. She and Feyre had been inseparable lately, or so he thought. “Is anything wrong?”

She folded her hands in front of her and replied lightly, “It is nothing I would have dared trouble you for, knowing how busy you are, but… she did insist on seeing you…”

As Tamlin rounded the corner of his desk with Lucien close behind, Ianthe added, “Alone.”

He and Lucien exchanged worried glances.

After a moment’s consideration, he clapped his hand on Lucien’s shoulder and told him, “Take over for me. I’m sure Ianthe can offer some guidance until my return.”

He caught Lucien glowering in the priestess’s direction, who was positively glowing, but if Feyre needed him as badly as Ianthe said, he couldn’t allow either of them to distract him. He would find a way to make it up to his emissary later.

Tamlin willed himself to walk out of the study, meanwhile every instinct screamed at him to winnow to Feyre’s side, but she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He didn’t want to frighten her or risk upsetting her further. His concern for her only grew when he appeared at the end of the hall outside her private chambers, and a huddle of servants were whispering outside her door. They fell silent as he approached, and curtsied deeply before parting to let him pass. He could feel their expectant eyes upon him as he stood in front of her closed door and… hesitated. It was never closed in the middle of the day. While he wasn’t in the habit of knocking on doors in his own home, he did call through the opening as he entered, so that he wouldn’t startle her.

“Feyre?” The chamber was empty, but her lilac-and-pear scent filled the room. He stepped in and turned his head. “Where are you?”

Something rustled from behind the dressing screen in the corner. “Are you alone?” a miserable voice wobbled.

He gently closed the door behind him. “Completely,” he said cautiously, stepping closer. “What’s the matter?”

A loud sniff, then more rustling as she stepped into view. Rather, her dress rustled into view before she did. It was… It was… huge.

She looked so miserable and—and poofy that he couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. His body shook so hard that he had to grab a nearby chair and sink into it. His howls of laughter filled the room.

“I knew it,” she wailed, sinking to her knees in the middle of the floor as her skirts billowed around her. He should have gone to her. He should have comforted her. But by the gods of this world and the next, his knees were too weak to carry him.

He had been so worried, it was a relief to know this was all it was. Feeling breathless and lightheaded, he managed to lower himself to the floor and crawl over to where she knelt, a tiny pathetic figure surrounded by mountains of tulle. It was the least he could do to ask for her forgiveness, not that he deserved it for laughing so hard.

Still on his hands and knees, he apologized. “I didn’t mean to laugh,” he said gently, although his lips were still twitching. “You look beautiful.”

She shot him a glare, then ripped the garland of white roses from her hair and complained, “I look ridiculous.”

As she frowned at the garland and began turning it over in her hands, he let out a sigh, releasing the last of his mirth at her expense. He patted down the nearest puff and managed to sit beside her on the floor. Resting his arms on his bent knees, he leaned over and tried to catch her eye, which was difficult to do considering the size of her dress sleeves.

“You look ridiculously beautiful,” he said sincerely.

And she did. Despite her flushed cheeks and pouting expression, being changed from human to High Fae had only enhanced her unique beauty. Her skin was still freckled, her mouth was still full and soft, and her eyes, though teary, sparkled like stars on Solstice Night.

She looked away and let out a disgusted sigh. “I look like a dressmaker’s doll,” she muttered, tossing the garland away and onto the rug.

His smile faded as he regarded the cast-off roses and the rumpled ribbons. He reached for her tattooed hand, the hand that wore his emerald ring, and curled his fingers around hers. “Do you hate it that much?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s… it’s just not me,” she said quietly.

“Would you prefer a tunic and leggings?”

She turned her head at that and stared at him.

He smiled. “Whether you walk down the aisle in a gown, or fighting leathers, or a tunic and leggings, it wouldn’t matter. I’d marry you just the same.”

She bit her lip and dropped her gaze to look at their joined hands. “Ianthe said I have to make a statement,” she said quietly, tightening her fingers around his. “Something about roses and Spring…” She sniffed and loosened her grip to hug her arms. “But I was always your thorn… Especially now.”

He looked her over. Now that he was through laughing, he could see that the layers of tulle did appear to resemble an upside down rose. The bodice even had tendrils of vines embroidered on the bodice. It seemed that while Ianthe had taken him literally when he mentioned how much roses meant to him and Feyre, the dress itself was not as ridiculous as he had first assumed.

“While what Ianthe said may be true,” he said, reaching out to tuck a loose spiral of golden-brown hair behind her ear, “it is not the dress that matters, but you.”

When she remained silent, he gently lifted her gaze.

“If you ask me to, I’ll marry you tomorrow, beneath the singing willow,” he said ardently. “No gowns. No guests. No pageantry… Just you, me, and Lucien… and Ianthe to marry us.”

Feyre’s soft, almost hopeful smile faded. “You would really do that… for me?” she whispered.

He nodded. “I love you,” he said softly, gazing into her starry eyes. “Thorns and all. And I always will.”

A small, crystal tear slid down her cheek as she gave him a small, sad, trembling smile. “I love you,” she whispered.

He slid his hand around her neck and leaned in to press his lips to hers. She kissed him back, and then kissed him again, and he could not taste her tears.

When they parted, she sighed, and her breath was warm against his mouth. Dropping her gaze, she reached up and straightened his collar. “I can’t ask you to do that,” she said quietly. “This wedding is too important to so many people… I can’t be selfish.”

“You sacrificed yourself Under the Mountain,” he reminded her. “You’re allowed to be a little selfish.”

She smiled sadly at him. “Not if I want to marry you,” she replied. “High Lord.”

He sighed. She was right, of course, which was why he had never wanted this position in the first place. But he was the only one left in his family line. If he denounced his title so soon after the chaos that was Amarantha, there was no telling who The Cauldron would choose next, or what they would do in his stead.

“Besides,” Feyre continued, bringing him back to the present. “I’ll have you all to myself after the wedding. I can be selfish then.”

His eyebrows rose at that, then lowered as he looked her over. “Um… How selfish?” he asked, letting his gaze linger over her low, fitted bodice.

She smiled a slow, sly smile as she caught his eye. “Selfish enough to ask you to tear off this gown and shred it to ribbons for me… my lord.”

He nearly started purring at the thought. He leaned back on his hands, then reached over and ran a finger over the laced ribbons keeping her outer corset closed. “To ribbons, you say?” he murmured, summoning a claw as he slowly drew it down her back, so it gently snagged on the lacing on the way down. “Like… these ribbons?”

He could hear her breathing quicken even as she smiled up at him, and it made her bosom swell in a most tempting way. “If you think you can,” she whispered.

His answer was a low growl. “You doubt me?”

“Never,” she said with a tempting, teasing smile, then suddenly turned her back on him. As she pulled her loose waves over her shoulder, exposing her long, pale neck to him, she turned her head head and added, “But perhaps we should practice first.”

His claw slid cleanly through the top lacing. “Perhaps.”

[felice-jaganshi]

My Fallen Apple

Chapter 13 (finale!)

It was a few more months before the wedding planning was done, and during that time, you got to know Alastor better. He wasn't really that bad except for when he felt the need to antagonize your fiancé. You and Zariah worked together to try and get the boys to act civil, with mild success. It seemed “teasing” was just one of Alastor's love languages. 

 

Finally though, it was the wedding day. Angel Dust, the spider demon you'd gotten to know recently, was doing your makeup.

“So, ready to become a queen?” He asked. 

“I don't know about ‘queen’… but I'm definitely ready to be his wife.” You look at yourself in the mirror and already the tears start to come.

“Hey! Hey! Nooo, nu uh! Hold off the waterworks till after the I Dos! At least let him see my hard work first!” He was grinning as he teased you.

 

Fizzarolli was holding your bouquet at the moment, making sure none of the flowers were wilted. He'd agreed to walk you down the aisle since your father wasn't an option. 

 

Zariah was going over some last minute things on the phone with Vaggie, who was with Charlie, who was with Him . Your soon-to-be husband. “Do you need me to come over there?... How do you usually get her to stop crying?... Just put Charlie on the phone then!” She was laughing, it seemed Charlie couldn't stop from crying over how happy she was to get to see her father get married.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. Your dress was an off the shoulder a-line with tulle sleeves. Your veil hangs behind as you stand from your chair. It has star and sun patterns with feathers on the edges in silver and gold. You look like a radiant goddess.

______

 

You were in front of the door leading out of the hotel. Nifty and Razzle were behind you ready to go as flower girls, and Alastor poked his head in, “You sure you want to marry the fool? You know Lilith isn't going to like this when she eventually comes home.” He was trying to stir shit up for fun, since he'd already taken care of the paparazzi and all the other “trouble makers”. 

 

“I'm sure. And if she does show up, I'll kick her ass for hurting him! I'm ready.” You smile, “Thanks Al, I needed that.” 

He hummed, “Good, you better keep your word on kicking her ass. He's counting on you.” He then popped back out and got the wedding march started. It was a slow piano version of “stand by you”. The song you sang to him just before he proposed.

 

Fizzarolli took your arm. “Here we go, try not to cry until the vows, okay?” You nod, buzzing in excitement. The doors opened, and you began to walk.

You see him at the end of the makeshift aisle. He looks stunning and stunned. 

He's wearing a new white suit, one with what almost looks like a three tier skirt in the back. Like a combination wedding gown and suit. It's elegant and the back is open in a diamond pattern, showing the markings where his wings rest in his back. His hat is gone, replaced with a proper crown in its place. He doesn't look like himself really, far more serious than you've ever seen him… but the love in his eyes is the same as ever.

 

You begin to walk, Fizz keeping a hold on you to keep you from just running to him. When you get closer you can see tears in his eyes, and a tremble in his smile. Charlie stood beside him as his best man, and Asmodeus stood at the altar to act as your officiate. 

 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to unite two souls in the firey, passionate bonds of Love and Marriage. And if anyone knows anything about love, it's the lord of Lust! Because while lust is fun for a while, love is the fuel that keeps that fire burning.” He looked at Fizz, sitting on your side of the aisle with a blush and a grin.

“Now, I'll stop my blubbering, and let you love birds say your vows, as I've been told our king has something special prepared.” Now everyone's attention was on Lucifer, as he took your hands.

 

“Becca, my sweet apple pie… before you literally fell into my life, I was a depressed wreck of a man. I couldn't bear to look at myself in the mirror. It was bad, real bad. Like, days without eating bad. I never thought I'd love again, or that I'd ever be able to face my daughter in such a state. And there you were, in my garden. Then you treated me so gently and with such kindness, I thought at first maybe I was finally being forgiven for my sins… then I realized you were too good for me, but you kept coming back and bringing out the best in me. Because to you, Charlie and I have reconnected. Because to you, the Sins and I are back to being family again. Because of you, my life is better than it has been in over one thousand years. And I promise, for as long as I exist, I will give you all the love I have in my heart. I'll cherish and adore you for all of eternity. I give you my heart, as bruised and battered as it is… please be gentle with it.” He smiled fondly at you.

 

The tears fall without your consent. “Luci… babe…” He reaches out to dry your tears. 

 

Ozzie smiled fondly, “Those were some beautiful words Luci. Now it's Becca's turn, you need a minute baby girl?”

You take Lucifer's hands that are holding your cheeks, and kiss the palm of each of them once. Then smile, “I'm good.”

 

“Lucifer… I know I wasn't meant to be in hell, but this has felt more like home than anywhere else in my life and afterlife. When we were alive, Zariah and I would joke about if we ended up in hell, I called dibs on marrying you. But now it's not a joke, but my greatest dream come true. I love you, more than any man I've ever loved. You've made me feel seen and appreciated and adored. You make me feel wanted and needed. And it's just as much what you don't do that makes me love you. You don't make me feel like your mother figure, and you don't make me feel exhausted from caring for you. I feel like your equal, and I feel energized lifting you up when you need it. Because you lift me up too. You'll never walk through hell alone, because I'm gonna stand by you every step of the way. I'll never leave you.”

Now it was his turn to cry, his eyes sparkling as rivers cascade down his cheeks.

 

“Alright baby! Now that's what I'm talking about!” Ozzie chuckled excitedly, “Becca, do you take Lucifer, the king of hell, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

 

“I do.” Your voice is full of certainty and confidence. 

 

“Lucifer, king of hell, lord of Pride. Do you take Becca to be your lawfully wedded wife and queen?”

 

“I do!” He's still sobbing as he says it, too excited to contain himself anymore.

 

“Then I pronounce you, Girlboss and Malewife! Haha, nah I'm playin’! I pronounce you Husband and Wife, now go on and kiss each other!” He smiled and Lucifer practically pounced at the opportunity to press his lips to yours.

 

The crowd was a combination of laughter and cheers, but you didn't care. You had a husband to smooch.

And to have and hold.

For the rest of eternity.

 

The End

______

(Bonus)

 

During the reception, the two of you sneak away while everyone's partying for some one on one time. Once alone on the hotel roof, Lucifer can't stop fidgeting…. 

“What's on your mind? Got something exciting planned for our wedding night you can't wait for?” You tease, sitting next to him.

 

“Hm? Oh, well, yeah, but… I also have something I wanted to run by you… so… you know normally once a human soul is dead, they can't have kids anymore? Well… I have the power to completely negate that rule. If I choose to. So… if you wanted… someday… maybe we could…” He looked at his hands as he fidgeted with his new ring. This one had your name engraved on the outside and inside.

 

“You… we could make Charlie a little sibling!” You realized what he was trying to say and tackled him! “Yes! Absolutely Luci! I'd love to! Let's… let's have a baby!”

 

The End (for real now)

[furymint]

FFXIV Write 2024 | header | wc: 1,376 | cw: elliot's bad parenting | i kidnapped @houseshadowstar for this

If nothing else, Elena did look cute. Even as she pouted and complained that she was hungry, and even when Elliot had to remove her rings after they'd caught in her lace collar for the second time, she didn't entirely look like a four year old child set on establishing Elliot’s unmitigated doom. That was a good start.

As he herded her towards the door of his chambers, he realized that navigating through the cathedral and to the carriage was going to be impossible. He refused to hold her hand. Their heights were simply incompatible: he would have to lean to the side as he walked just to match her, and part of him would rather never go out again than be seen like that. Carrying her was more impossible. In the end, Elliot settled on the assistance of an iris. With the end of the stem in his hand and the flower in hers, he bridged the gap.

They made it to the carriage without further issue. The ostiary even complimented Elena's hairpiece—not that she noticed—while they trundled down the snow-lined path. Her deadweight didn't help him lift her into the cab, and her seat right at the window didn't help him join her, but Elliot comforted himself in thinking that the Shadowstar residence was not far.

"Their names are Ceridwen and Sirus," Elliot coached her.

Elena pushed her cheek into the window and said, "Mm."

The iris didn't work once they reached the stairs ascending to the front doors. Elliot took her hand to balance and encourage her through each tall step, inwardly noting the committed scrunch of her face as something to tell Nolanel.

Since there was no guard to admit them, Elliot let Elena press the doorbell.

Ceridwen answered just as Elena began scraping her new shoes against the stoop.

"Elliot! I'm so glad we could have you. Sirus is inside; I have him tending my chocolate to watch for bubbles. I hope the two of you have the time to wait for it to set?" Ceridwen took both of Elliot’s hands fondly and squeezed them.

"I hope so," he returned, looking pleadingly at Elena.

Ceridwen shifted her attention to the girl too. "Miss Elena, have you had pan au chocolate afore?"

She thought about it. "Can I have one?"

"They'll be finished soon," Ceridwen promised.

Elliot inched forward. "I apologize for being so direct, but do you have any refreshments immediately available?"

"I'm hungry," interjected Elena.

"Oh, good!" said Ceridwen.

Elena turned her head toward the left wall. "It doesn't feel good."

"We have plenty to fix that—we just have to join my brother." Ceridwen turned slowly to lead the ungainly pair into the estate.

Her massive tulle skirt rippled as she walked, flowing around the legs of side tables and undulating through open doorways. 

Elena pursued the rustling sound as they walked. In under ten seconds, her walk became a run, and the run into a complete forward tumble.

"No no no—Don't—Ugh!" Elliot wailed, reaching for her.

She didn't care. The tiny girl hugged the plush fabric, no worse for wear, and giggled as she stood with iron fists of fluff.

Ceridwen laughed with her, then knelt to to inquire if she were truly fine.

"It's not fine at all!" Elliot started, his voice rising in its pique. "She can be so inconsiderate of people. Clothes are as much of a person as all of their property. She's mistaken a lady's dress skirts for the curtains once, and tried to hide among them—I still have not lived it down."

Three things happened. Ceridwen ignored Elliot, offered her hand to Elena, and waited for the girl to bore herself when help was refused.

Elliot watched those three things from another world. It surprised him how much he hated them. If he were a different man, he would have patience, acceptance, and humor. He knew he had those things—for others. For the girl who was suddenly in his life until he died, and who he did not want there, he had none.

But she was just a child in a new place-—and it was no fault of hers that she didn't trust him. He didn't want to be near her—-she was mercurial and weird and loud—and he had work to do that couldn't include a blind urchin.

They were stuck with each other whether they liked it or not when Nolanel left. He couldn't just tell her that she'd been abandoned so Nolanel could return to war. He couldn't be her father, either, although he had no good reason for that.

He and Elena were acquaintances living together, even if she had no appreciation for poetry and he did not share her fondness for ripping paper into tiny strips. Sometimes he was convinced that she calculated her day according to what would annoy him most.

But if he wanted Elena to behave politely, then he must be polite first. His voice lowered. "Thank you for being so kind. I don't know what I'm doing."

Ceridwen frowned pityingly, but in a way that showed she disapproved. "Do you not recall a whit of Vhene's upbringing when she was so young? Children are not angels, no matter how we paint cherubs."

"Of course I do," he insisted, "but Vhene had Norhi and all the force of the Bellworks behind her upbringing. 'Twas a bit strange, but she still had an entire party of adults to tell her not to climb up the kitchen cabinets."

"I'm sure they were only successful in deterring her half the time."

"That's true," Elliot grumbled.

Ceridwen rose to her feet and allowed the child to hold onto her skirt at they continued. "But Elena has you, your father, and all the rest—she shan't beat the table in a drum march because her food hasn't arrived timely enough. You won't let her."

Elliot impatiently nodded. "Yes, but heaven knows what else she keeps for dinner manners when she's excited. She probably had wolves for parents afore she had Nolanel. He's hardly any better."

Ceridwen looked blandly over at him and centered the charm on her necklace. "I doubt you. Ser Feran is as polite as a knight comes. It's true he intuits nothing in the language of gossip, but at one request he is the most accommodating creature I've ever met in a ballroom."

"That's because he's frightened out of his wits and desperate for guidance. Once he's comfortable and knows you enough, he forgets what it is to compromise."

Sirus whistled a falling note from the kitchen. "Damn," he cringed, appearing in the doorway. "Dwen was correct when she said this intervention would be for you more than the kid."

Elena followed Ceridwen past him into the kitchen. It was a massive, organized, efficient affair of countertops and containers. Elliot remained outside while Ceridwen swept around the island and poured a ramekin full of assorted berries. She handed it to Elena.

Elliot leaned against the opposite side of the doorframe and wagged a hand at Sirus. He wanted to talk of anything—even for a moment—that wasn't children. "Sirus. Have you patronized The Brume Closet recently? I heard there is a mistress proprietor now. When did ownership change hands?"

Sirus pressed deeper into his share of doorframe casually. "Oh, it's not so much of a change. I mean, some change, but just from an old name to a new one."

"Oh, very good," he replied, though he sounded absent. 

For the time being, Elena devoured blueberries in the same silence the room took on. Steam and scents wafted from one of the ovens while chocolate cooled at the other side of the room, away from its heat.

Ceridwen resumed her harassment. "Vhene is also nine, now, in case you've forgotten."

Elliot recoiled and slumped. "Why does the new youth so often do naught but remind me of my age!"

Sirus tilted his head. "How much older are we than him again?"

"Stop making fun of me!"

"I mean, you've asked for it," Sirus shrugged. "Coming here to wallow about how you've made enemies with your own kid."

"But she's not my child," Elliot sulked.

Ceridwen looked at her baking chronometer. "All right," she sighed. "How much time do we have?"

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 26, 29 juin 1884, Paris. Toilettes de Mme Coussinet, rue Richer, 43. Collection of the Rijksmuseum, Netherlands

Description de toilettes (Bibliothèque Forney):

Toilette de promenade et de casino. Jupe ronde en taffetas bleu ciel couverte de biais posés horizontalement. Panneaux aigus et pouf tombant en gaze de fil bleu ciel, à pois bleu azur. Chemisette bouffante en même gaze. Veste-habit en moscovite bleu ciel ornée sur son contour d'une assez large broderie exécutée en perles changeantes. Sur le bord inférieur de la jupe se trouve un volant de tulle crème brodé. La veste est fermée depuis le col jusqu'à la poitrine, ouverte depuis la poitrine jusqu'à la ceinture sur la chemisette. Manches s'arrêtant au coude avec revers orné de broderie en perles que dépasse un volant de tulle brodé. Gants en peau de Suède couvrant le bras.

Toilette de visites. En batiste d'Écosse écru uni, et même batiste brodée de rose et de bronze. La jupe, ronde, est entièrement couverte de plis posés horizontalement, puis disposée tout autour en gros plis perpendiculaires. Blouse en batiste brodée froncée sur les épaules, boutonnée de côté, retenue à la taille par une ceinture de velours bronze. Sur toute la hauteur des devants de la blouse, drapée en paniers, se trouve un revers de velours bronze. Chapeau en paille écrue doublée et garnie de velours et surah bronze.

—

Promenade and casino ensemble. Round skirt in sky blue taffeta covered with bias laid horizontally. Sharp panels and falling pouf in sky blue thread gauze, with azure blue polka dots. Puffy chemisette in the same gauze. Jacket-coat in sky blue Muscovite adorned on its outline with a fairly large embroidery executed in changing beads. On the lower edge of the skirt is a flounce of embroidered cream tulle. The jacket is closed from the collar to the chest, open from the chest to the belt on the shirt. Sleeves stopping at the elbow with turn-up adorned with beaded embroidery over which an embroidered tulle flounce protrudes. Suede leather gloves covering the arm.

Visiting ensemble. In plain ecru Scottish batiste, and even embroidered rose and bronze batiste. The round skirt is entirely covered with pleats placed horizontally, then arranged all around in large perpendicular pleats. Embroidered batiste blouse gathered on the shoulders, buttoned on the side, held at the waist by a bronze velvet belt. Along the full height of the fronts of the blouse, draped in baskets, is a bronze velvet lapel. Ecru straw hat lined and trimmed with velvet and bronze surah.

[stray-kaz]

The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : nine

The morning of your wedding day dawned misty and cool, the sky an otherworldly grey drifted over by pearly clouds. When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of a dress bag hanging from the top of your bed. You threw back the covers and crawled over the bed to get to it, pulling it carefully down and laying it across your lap.

With careful fingers, you unzipped it slowly, revealing inch after inch of white lace and tulle. The bodice was silver and inlaid with tiny fresh water pearls. You were certain your eyes were as big as saucers as you stared, running your fingertips gingerly over the beautiful pattern.

You knew that this was your last morning to be human, and by tonight, you would be the same as Walt. The thought still sent shock waves through you, but they were followed by a thrill of excitement with the knowledge that you would also be one with him.

A knock sounded and the door opened to admit a flurry of makeup artists and hair stylists.

“Already?” you asked, surprised. “What about breakfast?”

One of them smiled slightly and tossed you a brown paper bag. You peered into it to find an apple and cinnamon muffin waiting for you.

“The master thought you would say something to that effect.”

“The master” you murmured to yourself. “Does that mean I will become the ‘mistress’?”

The woman shrugged.

“If you go through with it” she answered bluntly.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Oh, I’ll go through with it” you retorted. “This is what my life has led to. I’d rather die than not marry Walt.”

Silence flooded the room for a few moments before the bustle continued and you were pushed down into the chair in front of the mirror, the fingers of one hand picking away at the muffin while the other was being tended to.

In his own bedroom, Walt stood at the windows staring out across the grounds wreathed in mist. It was perfect weather for a wedding to a monster, he figured. He had his back to the room, and had tuned out the various men and women as they came and went, delivering his freshly pressed suit and the glistening red boutonnière. His newly polished shoes waited at the foot of his bed, still unmade.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

The familiar sultry tone broke him out of his reverie, and he turned slowly to lazily glide his gaze over Viktoria as she stood in the centre of his bedroom, drawn up to her full height. He arched his eyebrows.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked quietly.

“She is just a girl. She does not truly understand what it is like to be one of us. She does not know how to...please you.”

Walt made a derisive sound.

“Does not understand?” he said. “She understands better than you or Lucy ever did. She has known about me since she was a young child. She has had me in her life since she was thirteen years old. As for pleasing me. She knows more about that than you ever will.”

Viktoria’s eyes darkened and the gaze she met his with was hostile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded harshly.

Walt shrugged, hands in his pockets.

“She loves me” he said simply. “She is capable of it. And she is unafraid of me.”

“How do you know?”

“There is no smell of fear on her. And she has seen me feed. She is not scared.”

Viktoria rolled her eyes in frustration and turned away towards the door, then turned back briefly, just one step towards him.

“Do you love her?” she asked quietly, morbidly curious in spite of herself.

A smile flickered slowly across his face as he nodded.

“Yes. I do.”

Viktoria shook her head slowly and walked out, closing the door a little too firmly behind her. Walt walked to the bed and looked down at the small white box on the coverlet, lid off to reveal its contents: a plain black half mask, designed to fit snugly over the right side of his face while leaving the left in view. He found himself wondering if you liked your mask, too.

It took a surprisingly long time to finish your makeup and hair, not to mention stepping into the dress and having it settled over your chest, the fabric heavy on your skin. And then the woman who had made the wedding dress came forward with another piece to add. Your eyes widened as she held out a gold handheld mask, flecks of gold paint glinting in the late afternoon light through your windows.

“Wow” you breathed, wrapping your fingers around the dainty rod attachment. “This is stunning.”

“As are you” the designer murmured, bowing her head slightly. “The master won’t know what hit him, mistress.”

Your gaze flashed to hers immediately upon hearing that word leave her lips. You nodded slightly.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Mrs. Swift will be by to get you shortly. The ceremony isn’t too far away.”

You nodded again and went back to stand in front of the mirror, still surprised by the reflection you saw. You, but perfect at the edges. A flawless version.

Half an hour went by and Mrs. Swift knocked on your door just as the texture of the light outside began to change. She couldn’t help smiling when she saw you in the magnificent dress, so you gave a short twirl, the skirt billowing around your ankles.

“Lovely” the older woman told you, her eyes warm. “I take it you’re ready then, my dear?”

“I was born ready.”

The little chapel hidden inside the manor was tucked full of people, mostly men, as Walt waited up by the altar, half mask attached securely. The organ struck up a sonorous melody as the doors at the end opened and his bride appeared in the gap remaining. Head to toe white and silver, no veil, but instead a delicate gold mask, held in place by one delicate red nailed hand.

If he was a mortal man, his knees would have weakened, but as he was not, his blood simply quickened and he felt the day change slowly into night and with it come the promise of teeth and blood.

And more.

You felt Walt’s eyes on you as you made your slow progression down the aisle on your father’s arm. When you reached the lord of the manor, your father handed you over to him with a kiss on your cheek. Walt took your hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles, his eyes gone dark silver.

“You are gorgeous” he whispered against your hand.

You flushed and reached up to touch the masked side of his face, the hard material cool on your skin.

“So are you” you murmured back.

“Shall we begin?”

You both turned to face the minister.

“Yes, please” Walt said emphatically.

You bit back a smile, your teeth white against red lipstick.

“Now I understand these two wish to complete the ceremony of change in private, so this will be simply a wedding, nothing more. Let us begin.”

You barely heard the rest of the words the elderly man spoke, so intent on Walt’s face and the feel of his hand in yours, his eyes threatening to burn holes through your mask.

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do” you said softly, and Walt’s lips twitched ever so slightly.

“And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”

Walt tossed your mask away into the shadows of the chapel and swept you into his arms, his mouth slanting cool and insistent over yours. Your breath caught and you clung to the front of his jacket, your hands trapped between your bodies.

“I love you” he mumbled against your lips, in plain English this time.

At long last.

The ground fell away from under your feet and you clasped your hands behind Walt’s neck as he carried you swiftly out of the chapel, leaving everybody behind for the safety and privacy of his own bedroom.

Let the real night begin.

Tagging: @hellomadamebutterfly​ @sky0401​ @noirrose21-blog​

[floral-force]

Sleeping Bounty - Chapter 10

We Are One

din djarin x f!reader

summary: Din and his princess get their happy ending with a wedding fit for royalty.

words: 4.5k+

warnings/tags: this is just extremely fluffy and self-indulgent. my blog and works are 18+ always. good friend Greef Karga, nervous!din, Mando'a, cute wedding stuff bc i'm a sucker for it

a/n: this is the final chapter in din and his princess's story. hold on for the epilogue, though!

read on ao3 | series masterlist

previous | epilogue

You stood in front of the tri-fold mirror nestled in the corner of your bedchamber, the right pane ending where a marble post began its arch to the ceiling, dropping to the other side and outlining the inlet where a chaise sat in the morning sun. One of your chambermaids picked up the tiered tulle slip laid out on it, arranging it over the circular pedestal the other dragged over and positioned in the center of the mirror. They let you rest your hands on their shoulders as you stepped up and into the opening, giving them thanks when you stood straight and still. The women pulled the slip up until the high waistband sat perfectly on the natural pinch of your torso.  

Without delay, one kicked two wooden stepstools behind you while the other pushed the wearing your wedding dress mannequin over. They whispered to each other and smiled, their happiness deflating your anxiety a tiny bit. As they both worked at undoing the small buttons on the back, you tried to slow your quick pulse, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself. The air was cold and prickled your skin; you grounded yourself to that sensation, even if it was a little unpleasant. 

You gasped when you heard the door creaking open, but you and the chambermaids were relieved to see it was just Peli and your mother. The fairy flew over in a rush, her full blue dress bouncing with the sudden change of speed. Your mother was close behind, her rich purple dress taking a pearlescent sheen in the sunlight with each quick step. 

“Allow me,” Peli said, pushing her sleeves up a bit and waving her wand. 

The chambermaids gasped in awe when the dress lifted into the air, the full tulle skirt flowing out in a halo above you. Without instruction, you raised your arms and closed your eyes as the dress was slowly lowered over you. When you opened them again, the women helped you put your arms through the delicate tulle bishop sleeves before getting to work on buttoning the back up.

Peli floated behind your left shoulder and your mother stood on your right, both women dabbing tears off their cheeks with handkerchiefs. The chambermaids finished, and you thanked them profusely before they walked to the right and towards the vanity across the room. 

“Oh, Rose!” Peli clasped her hands and smiled with a quivering lip. “You look beautiful.”

“Absolutely beautiful,” your mother echoed, fingers absentmindedly smoothing the skirt of your dress. Her pointed golden crown glinted in the light when she tilted her head and smiled at you in the mirror. “You really outdid yourself, Peli.”

“It wasn’t all me. Your daughter was showing me how far she’s come in the art of making royal demands.”

You gasped and playfully threw your hand back at Peli with a scoff. Your mother chuckled. 

The dress really was perfect. Peli had met your expectations and then flew to the heavens with them. The ballgown silhouette was delicate but full from its pink-hued champagne tulle lining. A layer of white tulle embroidered with Chantilly lace floral appliqués that wisped up from the hem to the bodice gave it an ethereal feel. You hadn’t specified what flower to use among the leafy accents, leaving it up to Peli. Seeing the briar roses among the dainty, leafy vines confirmed your guess as to what she’d pick—and they were lovely.

You smiled at how the pointed Basque waistline and sweetheart neckline with its modest plunging illusion inset perfectly accented your figure; it had been Peli’s idea to include these things, and you were thankful you allowed her to. The bodice was embroidered with the same white floral appliqués adorning the skirt of your dress, a few trailing vines dripping down to the tulle skirt. The lace motif curled around to an open back, small satin buttons trailing down your spine at the point of its subtle v-line. The pattern curled around the top of your off-shoulder sleeves and few smaller iterations of the lace roses decorated the thin tulle, while the cuffs were completely wrapped in the pattern.

Peli nodded at you in the mirror and smiled. “Turn around.”

“Why?” you asked, slowly starting your path with gentle movements to the left her despite your suspicion.

She winked. “You’ll see.” 

She waved her wand, and you felt the back of your dress lift up. It was far easier for you to move, but you still did so with caution. She abruptly told you to stop when you’d almost made it around. Material dropped to the floor again with a light rustle, and you met Peli’s eyes. She tilted her head towards the mirror, and you looked over your shoulder to see a train of tulle flowing out behind you. It was speckled with the same lace motif and added to the dress’s delicate, feminine quality. The train was so long that it was spilling up against the mirror; your mother had had to take a few steps back and into the sunlight spewing through the inlet’s large window. 

“Oh, Peli!” Your mother sighed, teary eyes trailing up from the embroidered train to meet yours, then to the fairy’s. “It’s going to look marvelous at the ceremony.”

You nodded in agreement. Tears you didn’t know had formed trailed down your cheeks. “Thank you, Aunt Peli.” You sniffed, taking her small hands in yours, voice wavering when you spoke again. “Thank you for everything.”

She didn’t need to say anything, and you didn’t expect her to. Your aunt had done so much for you, including bringing your beskar-clad fiancé to you—even if that was an accident. Peli pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you softly laughed when tears fell down her face to match yours. She shook her head and flew back a bit as she dabbed her cheeks dry.

“Goodness!” She exclaimed with a sniff. “I’m gonna waste all of my tears now and look like a mean old hag at the ceremony when everyone else is crying and I’m not.”

“You might not be alone,” your mother suggested after you had all finished laughing.

You went to turn and face the mirror again, Peli lifting the train with her wand so you could move and ask, “You don’t think the ki—er, father will cry?” You bit your bottom lip at your mistake; calling your parents by their titles was a reflex that you may always be chipping away at. 

She shrugged, crossing her arms. “He may. I can count on both hands the number of times he’s cried. One of which being the night we…” Your mother trailed off and her face was suddenly painted with sadness. She took a deep breath and looked back up at you, shaking her head and softly smiling again. “Who knows? Maybe his daughter’s wedding will make him shed a tear or two.”

“Who knows!” Peli exclaimed from the other side of the room, your heads turning.

She was flying behind the chambermaids as they approached you, one of them holding a dark wooden box. It looked long and deep enough to hold a bushel of the crabapples that grew near the cottage you found yourself missing the past few months. The thought made your heart heavy for only a moment. You bit the inside of your cheek and fiddled with the diamond ring on your left hand. This was supposed to be a happy day; you couldn’t linger on your blue nostalgia. 

When the women stopped a few feet away from you, your mother gently took the box with a nod, clutching it in her hands. The other held your shoes—a pair of clean, white satin heels—in her hands, waiting expectantly at Peli’s side. When Peli waved her wand and raised the front hem of your dress enough to reveal your feet, covered in thin, white stockings, the chambermaid crouched down and helped you slowly step into the oddly comfortable heels, smiling with you when you wobbled. You thanked her and steadied yourself; Peli took that as her cue to fix your hair with a swirl of her wand. The other chambermaid returned and started to add a little makeup to your face—enough to accent your features and match your dress’s soft, romantic look.

When it was all finished, your mother stepped to your side and exhaled, her shoulders sagging. Her eyes were glassy as she looked at you in the mirror, a rogue tear slipping down her cheek. If you weren’t wearing makeup, you’d tear up too. She stepped in front of you and took a shaky breath, saying your name three times as if she was reciting the end of an incantation.

“I want to give you this to wear.” 

One of the maids brought over a small table, and your mother set the box down, her thumbs flicking two tarnished latches up. She kept the box closed and bit her lip. Her fingers traced over the intricate carvings of vines and leaves, fingernails catching on deep ridges. Your mother shook her head and chuckled to herself.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting a Mandalorian to give you back to us. Seeing you next to him—” her eyebrows knitted together— “I thought he’d taken you captive from Phillip and was going to hold you for ransom. Use our pain against us. If it weren’t for Peli’s testimony, I think Stefan would’ve had him hauled away. And if he hadn’t, I certainly would have.” 

You could only listen and try to process what she was saying and why she’d chosen to confess her hesitancy and dislike of Din today. She looked up at your confused face. A gentle expression washed over her. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me for my grave misjudgment. After seeing how he behaves around you, how he treats you…I think—no, I know he’s an honorable man.” 

Your mother lifted the lid of the box, and you got a glimpse of a small, oblong package resting on top of something else, both hidden under brown paper. She gingerly started to unwrap the smaller item with the chambermaids’ help, and you gasped when you saw a fringe tiara, its dainty spikes of diamonds sparkling in the light. The brown paper was pulled back and carefully unwrapped to reveal a delicate two-layered veil; your mother had it draped over her arms and you saw the intricate lace embroidery around the edges of it. 

“I wore this on my wedding day,” she said, meeting your eyes again. “I want you to wear it for yours.”

You could only grin at her and choke back a sentimental sob. She walked behind you and Peli followed her with a gentle hold on end of the veil. Your mother gently placed the tiara on the crown of your head, making sure it was in the correct position. It was heavy on your head, forcing you to stand as straight as possible; Din would probably tease you for it later. Peli flew over you to drape the blusher over you, the thin material reaching your fingertips. All four women in the room looked at you in the mirror, smiling and sighing. Your mother wiped a few tears off her face. You almost shed a tear yourself, but Peli gently tapped your bicep and joked that you’d ruin your makeup.

The collective adoration ended when there was a sharp rapping on the door. 

“Your carriage awaits, Your Majesties!” A man declared.

Your aunt and mother turned away from the mirror and looked at you. Your mother took your hands in hers and squeezed as she said your name.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

You nodded. “I am.”

Din stood outside the ballroom’s heavy oak doors, shifting his feet and fidgeting with his thumb. Seeing so many kriffing people filing in for his wedding had put him on edge. He’d expected their stares and whispers, but it affected him more than those reactions usually did. Not only that, but he was also doing the unthinkable—he’d left his weapons in his room after his fiancée begged him to, saying her father was uneasy about how it might affect their relations with the kingdom’s subjects. She told him that she hated it as much as he did, but she implored him to do this for her. Weapons were his religion, but she was his goddess, and he would always do her bidding. Thank the Maker the king had told him a few days ago that he could keep the darksaber on his hip. 

Greef Karga stood at his side and nudged him with his elbow. Din looked at him and saw the man’s concerned expression.

“Mando, relax,” he urged.

“How am I supposed to relax without my blasters?” Din snapped. He dropped his visor to the ground, nudging the toe of his boot against a crack in the stone. He sighed and clenched his fists. “I’m just…”

When he trailed off, Greef hummed with a smug realization. “The great Mandalorian bounty hunter, best in the Guild and a dragon slayer,” he teased, earning a snap of Din’s helmet in his direction, “is afraid.”

Din’s hands slapped against the side of his thighs, and he groaned. Under the helmet, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment, the tips of his ears burning. Leave it to Greef to see right through him and make him squirm. Din had come to consider the man a friend over the years, and he immediately knew he’d have Greef at his side for the wedding. Of course, the man gave him a wide grin and clapped Din on the arm and then nearly choked on his spotchka when Din told him who his soon-to-be spouse was. He’d also finally told Greef his name; it was only appropriate since he’d agreed to be the best man at his wedding.

“You know, it’s not a bad thing to be nervous, Din.”

Din exhaled, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He hung his helmet down and shrugged. The beskar felt heavier than it ever had before. 

He looked at his friend. “I don’t even feel this way when someone’s holding vibroblade against my throat, or when I’m in unarmed in a fight against people who are.”

Greef gave him an understanding smile. “Feeling nervous just means you care.”

Din paused, then nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

The two men stood next to each other in silence, Din’s thoughts moving at hyperspeed. He had only just managed to capture one when Greef nudged him. Din followed where Greef jerked his head and saw the group of people walking up the wide stone steps to the doors. He saw their carriage drive away as the officiant reached the door, King Stefan and Queen Leah right behind him. 

Din had breathed a sigh of relief when his princess told him there’d be no religion involved. She told him he could have another Mandalorian come and say their marriage rites alongside the royal officiant if he wanted. Din had refused; the covert had to stay hidden. Instead, he paid a visit to the Armorer and left her tasked with only one thing that he had to do.

The queen gave him a soft smile, her right arm hooked through Stefan’s left. She motioned for Din to walk over, and he did with shaking knees. They were both lavishly dressed; the queen wore a cape made of golden brocade while the king’s long tunic matched his wife’s purple satin dress, a black cloak with an intricate gold jacquard pattern all over it trailing over his shoulders. Stefan extended his hand and Din shook it. Din was thankful for this distraction from his anxiety, even if it made him feel a bit awkward. 

“Din,” the queen said, “I noticed you don’t have any family with you.”

“Just Greef Karga, my…friend.” It was still such a foreign word to him. “The Mandalorian covert I belong to needs to stay hidden.”

“Even for your wedding?” Stefan raised an eyebrow. 

“I can’t risk my covert. This is The Way.”

Leah sharply inhaled, her brow furrowing in thought as she looked up at Stefan. “If my husband is fine with it—” she gave Din a tender smile— “I’d like to walk down the aisle with you.”

Din waved his hands. “No, that isn’t—”

“Stefan is walking our daughter down the aisle,” she interjected. “I’d just be alone.” 

They both looked at him expectantly. Stefan raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. Now he knew where his bride got her stubbornness from. 

Din shook his head and shrugged. “Alright.”

“Good man.” Stefan commented, the threatening demeanor melting away. He kissed Leah’s hand, giving her a warm smile.

Leah walked in front of her husband and Din offered his bent left arm for her to take. She gently guided him to stand off to the right of the doors where they’d be hidden from view when they opened. The officiant directed everyone, her voice commanding and urgent. It reminded him of the Armorer and helped his body and brain settle a bit more. An usher stood across from the wedding party, presumably to direct them inside. Greef shook Din’s shoulder, making him turn around. He couldn’t help but smile at Greef’s encouraging grin, feeling a bit more at ease. Maybe having a friend wasn’t all that bad.

The sound of the doors creaking open into the cathedral made Din’s stomach turn. The officiant walked in immediately after the first note of the opening flourish to what Din assumed was a processional. Not long after, Din walked forward with the queen, his hands clammy under his gloves. The usher motioned them to turn and walk, and Din nearly swore when he saw how far away the altar was. He could barely process anything after he took his first step onto the white carpet running down the altar the officiant was now walking up a few steps to. He kept his eyes straight ahead and focused on the waiting officiant, Leah’s hand occasionally giving the exposed part of his forearm a reassuring squeeze. The music filled his ears and covered the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears. When they reached the base of the four steps leading to the altar, she turned to Din and took his hand in hers, giving him that soft smile his princess gave him. 

Din took his place on the right side of the altar, his shaky breaths adding a layer to the music only he could hear. He watched Greef walk down the aisle to prevent his eyes from darting around the crowd. He nodded when his friend took his place at Din’s left side. The processional had become louder, its majestic melody crashing into his bones. Right as strings began to twirl up a scale, a crescendo building, he saw her step into the cathedral.

There was shuffling as the crowd stood and gasps of awe speckling the most triumphant iteration of the melody yet as she walked down the aisle towards him. He felt his throat burn and his eyes tear up, threatening to spill down his cheeks the closer she got. Her dress was soft and highlighted the curves he loved to hold, the color of the fabric perfect on her skin. As she got closer, he noticed the dainty lace flowers on her skirt. He assumed the pattern was also on her sleeves, but he was too focused on her gorgeous shoulders and collarbones to really care about her sleeves. Peli flew behind her, low to the floor, gently grasping her dress’s lengthy train in her tiny hands, but the way it splayed out perfectly behind his bride with little effort from Peli made him think she’d used a little magic, too. His bride’s lips were painted with an affectionate smile that made his heart swell, even if it was muted under a thin veil. The bouquet in her hand was full of white roses, thin, light green strands of tiny leaves spraying down the front and sides. Din swallowed and drank her in, committing the moment to his memory. 

As the processional neared its end, Din hurriedly took his gloves off and shoved them in his belt, swearing to himself for nearly forgetting; he’d just been hypnotized by her. She ascended the steps with Stefan, stopping on the last one before the altar. He gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek and placed her right hand in Din’s open left palm. 

“Take good care of her,” Stefan said with teary eyes.

Din nodded and Stefan walked back to sit next to Leah. Din and held onto her fingers as she stepped up to the altar and took her place across from him with a nervous smile. Peli quickly splayed out the long train of her dress and veil behind her down the stairs to show off its intricate embroidery, then flew over to take her bouquet before taking her place floating behind his bride. Rustling filled the air after the orchestra’s final note dissipated into the cathedral’s vaulted ceiling, and it was finally time to begin.

The sound of the officiant’s voice faded into the background as he stared at her, his chest warm and knees weak. The tiara she was wearing pointed up under the veil, and he felt a beatific smile split his lips into a grin. Her eyes searched his visor, her face radiant and brightening the room despite the veil. Not sleep nor tulle could dim her glow. She must have sensed his anxiety, because she took his other hand in hers and gave them both a squeeze. It instantly soothed him.

“It’s alright Din,” she whispered under the officiant’s booming voice. “Just breathe, baby.”

He wished she could see the way her words made him melt, how her voice alone forced every iota of tension out of his body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered back, his throat dry and voice wavering. 

It was all he could manage, but at least his compliment made her smile even wider. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side as she did, then opened her eyes after a few seconds and stared straight into his. Din loved making her flustered just so he could see her cute reaction.

He barely registered anything that didn’t involve him directly touching or speaking to her. All he could see was her. All he could feel was her hands—they were clammy, making him feel better about his sweaty ones. All he could do was stare and let his eyes wander over her so he could sear this moment into his brain and see it clearly for the rest of his life. Din’s heart hammered in his ears as he responded to the vows—saying “I do” just as he’d practiced—and it soared into the sky when she echoed his words. 

The officiant looked at Din, flipping a page in her leather-covered book. She cleared her throat before announcing both of their full names.

She continued, “You will now recite the Mandalorian vow together.”

His mouth was suddenly drier than the sands of Tatooine. Din took a deep breath and squeezed her fingers, focusing on her soft smile. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” 

Din swallowed the thick lump in his throat, his eyes tearing up. The meaning of those words sunk into his soul, lifting it up to the sky with joy at the same time. The Armorer had told him it translated to “We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.” He had never felt more certain of something in his life; he meant every word, and his gut told him that she did too.

His chest also swelled with pride; his perfect princess had spoken the Mando’a vow as if she’d been speaking the language her whole life. And somehow, they’d said it in almost perfect unison. Every time they’d practiced—and even at the rehearsal—the timing had been off. The stars must have aligned so this day would go perfectly for them. 

When they were given the wedding rings to exchange, Din suddenly felt self-conscious about his hands, and he remembered how large of a crowd had gathered in the massive cathedral. Her magical touch made him forget about it all; her gentle fingers and concentrated eyes grounded him as she slipped the black obsidian band on his ring finger. Her voice was solid and proud as she repeated the officiant’s words for the ring exchange. His hands were shaking as he did the same with her thin, modest band and then the diamond ring he'd proposed to her with. Din hoped his voice wasn’t wavering too much as he spoke. He relaxed when he noticed her chest tremble with a suppressed giggle as he made sure the stone sat perfectly on her finger; she’d told him that she thought his perfectionism was endearing a while ago. 

After his last word, he realized the ceremony was over—but there was one last thing to do.

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

Din’s shaking hands gently lifted her veil and let it fall back behind her tiara, revealing her face and letting the tiara finally sparkle. She was even more beautiful now without the thin material obstructing his view. She was beaming up at him, her eyes sparkling as much as the tiara’s diamonds. Din bent his head forward and gingerly cupped her jaw in his hands as she placed hers on the side of his helmet, meeting his beskar forehead with her smooth one. 

As the crowd cheered and the orchestra began playing a majestic recessional, Din pulled back and turned to face the doors, his princess doing the same. She waved down at her parents, then took her bouquet back from Peli before the fairy quickly took hold of the train and waved her wand to gently lift it mere inches off the ground. Din looked at his wife, offering his open hand; she gently bent her fingers over his, smiling when his fingers curled over hers.

As they made their way down the aisle to jubilant applause, she gave him a quick, smug glance. “I told you it would painless.”

“I think our definitions of pain are very different.”

She rolled her eyes and giggled, and Din clicked his tongue. “Careful, princess, or I’m taking you on a jet pack ride out of here.”

“Thank the Force our carriage is here,” she said as their feet tapped onto the stone steps outside, “because I’d wish you well on that solo flight and meet you in the ballroom for the reception.”

“My wife is so loving,” Din deadpanned.

“And my husband thinks he’s funny,” she retorted with a playful smile. 

Din shook his head and held her hand as she stepped into the open-top carriage, waving to the crowd gathered across from the cathedral. Once they were both seated, Din took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes fell on his visor, cheeks split with joy.

“I love you, mesh’la.”

“I love you too, Din.”

The carriage sped off for the castle, a new life waiting for them.

previous | epilogue

taglist (join here):

@charlottetownwaffles, @theamuz, @graciexmarvel, @elinedjarin, @maddiedrmr, @kaqua, @fairy-tale-writer, @bbyanarchist, @hardlystrictlystarwars, @hrtsforpascal, @threeheadedlamb, @dindjarinsmut, @notsosecretspy, @djarinslove, @jellybeanstacey0519, @mymindfuckery

[carladuquette]

I went to the Eras tour last night and Taylor played Speak Now as one of the surprise songs (it was part of a mash-up, but whatever). I love this song. Like, LOVE it. So much in fact, that it was the very first in my TS x Elite fanfiction series. Speak Now is what got the whole thing started.

So what better time than today, when I’m still on my post-concert high, to share the fanfic inspired by Speak Now again?

The ties were black, the lies were white: Speak Now

I sneak in and see your friends

And her snotty little family all dressed in pastel

They had actually sneaked into the church where her high school boyfriend was about to get married like it was Teatro Barcelo and she and Lu were 15. Carla took a moment to appreciate the absurdity of her life before she looked around. People were still arriving, so there was enough of a hustle and bustle that the two of them didn't attract attention standing off to the side next to a large shelf holding fliers about the church's membership drive, its Thursday night soup kitchen and the Alcoholics Anonymous group that hosted its meetings in the building's basement. The snob in Carla was appalled that no one had bothered to remove the shelf, or at least the fliers, before the wedding. Stop judging, she reminded herself. You shouldn't even be here.

Lu had no such qualms. "That has to be Maria's mother up there, right?" She scoffed. "Who wears mint green to a wedding? Honestly, that whole outfit is a disaster. I am itching just looking at the fabric from here. What is that, polyester?"

Carla nodded absentmindedly, looking for faces she'd recognize. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted Nano already standing up front next to the altar, looking uncomfortable in an ill-fitting suit. "Look." She tugged on Lu's arm. "Samu must be so happy to have his brother here. I bet Nano is his best man."

"Yeah, he is." Lu chuckled. "Guzman was pretty hurt he didn't get the job. Oh my God, is that-"

Both of their mouths were hanging open as they watched a tall brunette walk past them at a distance, quietly cursing and pulling at the ruffles covering her torso. "Wow," was all Carla managed. She couldn't drag her eyes away from Rebeka in a pink tulle atrocity that she realized had to be a bridesmaid dress.

"She and Samuel must still be really good friends for her to be wearing that." Lu was laughing so hard she had to lean on the shelf and Carla shushed her. When she had calmed down she turned to Carla.

"So, I hang back here while you go find Samuel? I can text Guzman about where the room is that the guys-

"Are you insane?" Carla took a step closer to Lu so their faces were almost touching. "I am not going to talk to him! That is not why we came here!"

[nichirinpen]

Flame in His Heart

Rengoku x Reader

Part 4 (Part 3 here)

Synopsis- An arranged marriage, a horrible father-in-law and a husband who seemed content ignoring you. Can you weather the larger storm brewing? Will Kyojuro ever open up to you?

Content Warnings: AFAB reader descriptions, slow burn, mentions of alcoholism (not the reader), strangers to friends to lovers,  dark themes

~Minors DNI~

One day until the party and still no Kyojuro. You sat at your vanity, picking through the many drawers of jewelry. The cold metal slid like silk beneath your fingers. You chewed at your bottom lip, picking over the fine silver and gold, the pieces shone softly in the bedroom light. There wasn’t a piece in particular you were searching for. In truth, digging through the drawers was just you buying time. Between the silence from Kyojuro and the looming party, your mind was a mess of anxiety. You had yet to pick out a dress for the event, your focus had entirely been on redoing the event theme. And today it was focused too much on your cell phone. The small device shoved deep in your pocket, silent and heavy. Kyojuro hadn’t said yet when he would be home. 

Worst than all of that however was Shinjuro. He had also gone silent, none of his butlers bothering you, no rude messages over the phone. It disturbed you greatly. Just what was he planning for tomorrow? It wasn’t like him to go quiet, not for this long, the man took too much pleasure in dictating almost every little moment of your life. The silence only added to the storm in your mind.

You jumped as there was a knock at your door. Your heart leapt excitedly, for just a moment you thought perhaps Kyojuro was home. But no, this was his room as well, he had no need to knock.

“Come in.” You called over your shoulder, sliding the small jewelry case closed as you did so. 

The large door opened and you watched as Susamaru shuffled backwards, dragging a large box in with her. The box seemed to fight the woman, her arms shaking slightly as she strained to tug it across the carpet. Susamaru grunted as she tugged it to the bed, standing up and rotating her shoulders. The box sat like a large toad, its shabby cardboard out of place in the elegance of your bedroom.

“This just arrived, sender is Shinjuro Rengoku.”

You shared a look of disgust with her. The other woman had become a confidant of sorts in the past few days, her hatred of Shunjuro matched yours with its intensity. She spoke loudly and proudly of her dislike of the man, much to her quieter companions' chagrin. But for you, it felt good to have a friend in the cold and empty manor. You wouldn’t doubt that when push came to shove, and it certainly would tomorrow, Susamaru would be at your side. 

Standing, you walked to the large box, trying to discern what horrors lay hidden inside. It was addressed to you, not the manor so it couldn’t be event items. Besides all that was left was for the catering to show and that wouldn’t happen until tomorrow. 

You tapped a nail against the thick cardboard, wondering if you could just shove it in the back of your closet. It was preferable but depending on what was inside there might be consequences to ignoring this “gift”. 

Susamaru took an envelope opener from her pocket, swiftly cutting the tape open. You carefully opened the box, body tense as you peeked inside. What manner of humiliation had he sent your way?

“What the heck.” You frowned as magenta tulle sprung from the box, nearly smacking you in the face. Whatever it was had barely been contained by the box. The gaudy fabric spilled forth like a pink river and as you tugged it from the box it seemed never ending. Foot after foot of the frilly fabric spilled forth, each tug revealing another layer inside the box. Susamaru moved to help, the other woman muttering curses as yet another yard of magenta fabric sprung forth. It pooled around your feet, tangling as you shifted. After what felt like ages, you had finally tugged the monstrosity free.

“What the heck is this?” You asked out loud, more so to yourself than Susamaru. The head maid shrugged, digging through the fabric. You grimaced as you assisted. Whatever it was, it was made with tulle and velvet, two fabrics that had horribly clashing textures. As you dug you frowned, the magenta matched the original party theme. God was it curtains? You sincerely hoped not. Mukago had actually managed to find red linens, the small woman working all week to slowly transform the house from dull greens to warm reds. The estate radiated warmth for the first time since you had been there. 

Even Ms. Gloria, in all her nastiness, had complied with your request for gold and crimson party decor, her snotty assistant dropping everything off with a huff. You were not about to back track a week's worth of work for a bunch of ugly as sin curtains.

Your fingers hit something metallic and you tugged, dragging forth whatever it was from the sea of pink. In your grasp was a metal clasp. You tugged at the heavy fabric, taking in a row of clasps, all leading up to a strange oval in the fabric. Not an oval, a neckline.

“Oh my god.” You took it in both hands, holding up the top of the monstrosity. “This is a dress.” 

Susamaru’s mouth dropped open as she took in the velvet bodice that led to the massive skirt and ridiculous poofy sleeves. The garment was so heavy it made your arms shake as you held it up. It was not made for comfort, this was 100% made to humiliate you and be difficult to wear. 

“If you wear that you will look like a fucking pompom.” Susamaru was blunt but correct. The dress hung heavily from your grasp, its sea of fabric nearly swallowing your legs just by standing near it.

“I’m not wearing this.” You dropped your arms, grimacing down at the magenta puddle. Shinjuro might assume you lived in the palm of his hand, but this was too much even for the submissive parts of you. As much as you didn’t want to attract the man’s attention, you also didn’t want to wear a 100 pound dress for a day. An image of you limping from guest to guest at the pace of a snail swam to light and you scowled, kicking at the dress disheartedly. This would get you in more trouble but frankly it would be worth the hassle.

Susamaru tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, jabbing at the box with a thumb. “Wanna shove it back where it came from?”

You nodded silently, the two of you shoving the fabric back with difficulty. It did not go all the way back in, several feet hung from the box. Kicking it resentfully, you tugged the heavy box into the walk in closet. It took effort, your shoulders popping as you shoved it into a far corner. It sat, toadlike once again in the shadows.

“You should wear something sexy tomorrow.” You raised an eyebrow at Susamaru’s words, only slightly surprised. The last few days you had learned the woman was very blunt and rather crass. It was refreshing in a way, although you knew it stressed the other staff out. They probably assumed it would get them all in trouble. 

Looking at the many dresses that sat neatly in your closet, you mulled over her words. It was a one year wedding anniversary party. You had never been to an anniversary party before, so you weren’t too sure what was considered normal. Although given that Shinjuro was the one making the guest list you doubted this event was any sort of normal. Running a hand over the various fabrics you looked through the large selection. Half of these you hadn’t ever worn, they just sat after being delivered. 

Shinjuro was an ass like that, seeming to enjoy extravagant shopping trips, filling his son and your closet with outfits you had never worn. It made you wonder just how stuffed the old man’s closet was. You doubted his shopping sprees were limited to just you. 

“So, the colors we went with are warm and fiery. What about matching that?” Susamaru leaned against the closet door, arms crossed over her chest as she took in the dresses. 

While you agreed with her, there was nothing in the closet that was red or yellow. Closest thing was the magenta monstrosity you’d rather forget. Glancing at it from the corner of your eye, you wondered why he had even gone with magenta. The man had made sure nothing close to red ever entered any of the Rengoku estates. Magenta was really toeing the line.

“I suppose I should go shopping.” You mused, twisting your lips in a frown. Going out and trying on a multitude of dresses did not sound like your kind of day. Although, it might have to be done.The wall of blue, green and black dresses that stared back at you was like an ugly bruise. There wasn’t even a white one you could try to dye. Your mind briefly went to your wedding dress, but you quickly squashed it. Dying that red seemed like an invitation for Shinjuro to murder you.

“Rui could use some time out of the estate.” Susamaru pushed off the door frame as she spoke. You followed her from the closet, nodding at her words. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Tapping a golden nail against your wedding band, you considered your options. Wear black and look way out of place. Wear the magenta dress and look like a clown. Or go shopping and maybe find something that would match you to the decor and your husband. 

If he would even be there.

The nasty thought you had been trying so hard not to think cropped up. You bit your bottom lip, trying not to let it grow. It was difficult however, the thought made too much sense. It would be like Shinjuro to throw a party and prevent his own son from attending. The action would make Kyojuro look uncaring and callous. Although it wouldn’t really humiliate you, it would bring you pity from the other high class wives. Shinjuro liked to flaunt his son however and to have him miss it would also reflect poorly on the old drunk. You knew this was least likely the route of pay back the old man was taking, yet the thought plagued you. 

“I think I will go out.” You hurried from your room, Susamaru hot on your heels. The two of you made it to the second floor and you paused, turning towards Senjuro’s room. 

The boy, while grateful, had been incredibly withdrawn and sad. Part of it you figured was a part of his personality, he seemed naturally quiet and withdrawn. But the other part seemed to be just straight depression. Senjuro wallowed in it, meekly going from the library to his room without saying much. 

“I’ll go get Rui.” Susamaru shot over her shoulder as she hurried down the stairs. You paused, then made your way to Senjuro’s room, pausing for a moment before knocking softly. There was no sound, the doors remained closed. You knocked again, softly calling the boy's name. A small noise leaked through the door. You waited patently, a slight sense of worry tickling the back of your mind. 

Genya hadn’t said anything but you knew he was worried about Senjuro as well, the whole household was. The young man walked the halls like a small ghost, his eyes often red from crying. In the dark of night you had caught him drifting from room to room, his thick eyebrows pinched over watery eyes. The library seemed to be his favorite, the place once your solace now a refuge for a little fire ghost. 

You weren’t sure what to say or do to sooth his troubled soul. All you could do was hope Kyojuro would be home soon.

The door cracked up, one watery amber eye peeking out at you. From the crack you could tell the room was dark, all of the curtains shut. The worry in your chest itched and you swallowed it. Smiling at the boy, you motioned towards the front hall.

“I was wondering if you’d join me shopping? I need a dress for tomorrow.” 

The boy blinked, then opened the door wider and slipped out. Senjuro looked tired, his face red and swollen from crying. You decided not to comment on his appearance, not wanting to upset the boy further. As much as your suggestion of a warm bath would be coming from a good place, you could tell he was barely hanging on. Senjuro trailed after you quietly as you made your way downstairs. 

Rui was already waiting by the front door, the pale child picking at his sweater sleeve. You smiled at the sight. After the appalling first day and learning that the staff were unpaid by Muzan, you had let Susamaru go crazy with the Manor card, insisting that they got clothing they felt comfortable in. Rui had picked out a set of spider sweaters, they were identical, the boy advising that the pattern made him happy. You were just happy he was no longer stuffed into a suit that was 3 sizes too big for him. 

“Hello Mrs. Rengoku.” Rui bowed to you, then to Senjuro. You waved him off with a smile. Despite your best efforts the boy still used formalities. Quickly slipping on your coat, you helped Rui into his, the small boy nearly disappearing into the white puffy fabric. You swallowed a laugh at how much he looked like a snowman. Senjuro wore his thin school jacket and you felt disheartened, the memory of his assurance he didn’t need anything when you had offered to buy him a thicker coat. It made you wonder just what Shinjuro said or done to crush the boy so much. Shaking it from your head, you sighed, grabbing your purse from its spot on the hall table. The three of you stepped out into the chill of January. 

“AH” You nearly slipped on the front stairs, your heels sliding against the icy stone. Senjuro steadied you quickly, helping you walk unsteadily down the few steps. You pursed your lips, keeping in the curses that bubbled in your throat, not wanting to teach Rui any new words. Instead you internally cursed Shinjuro, because of him you had no footwear that was appropriate for winter. Just a sea of heels lived in your closet.

“I’ll get Genya.” Senjuro spoke softly, the boy jogging across the driveway to the garage. While he had a new room, Genya still had maintenance to do on the many vehicles the Rengoku’s owned. The kid was handy and determined. You shivered as a gust of wind hit you, the icy air feeling sharp against your face. Rui pressed closer to you, the boy grabbing your hand with his icy fingers. You hoped the garage was warm, the thought of Genya working in this temperature brought visions of frost bitten fingers and nose. You sneezed in sympathy, nose tickling as the sharp wind cut into your face again.

Genya seemed alright, his cheeks rosy as he jogged up to you with Senjuro in tow. The boy’s smile was wide as he unlocked the nearest car, the doors cracking open slightly as the layer of frost broke.

“Where to Mrs. Rengoku?” You paused as you were about to get in the car, frowning as you realized you didn’t actually know where to go. Sure there were the shops in town, but would they have what you needed? In the year you had been married to Kyojuro, you hadn’t ever gone clothing shopping.  Sliding into the back, you helped buckle Rui as you tried to remember the nearest dress shop. Your mind was blank, nothing swimming to the surface. 

“Is there a dress shop nearby?” You leaned forward, looking through the stupid seat divider that sat in your way. Genya thought for a moment, taping his fingers against the wheel. 

“Like normal or fancy?” You were lightly thrown by his question. Did he mean normal as in everyday where for any one, or normal as in what was normal for you? You paused as you thought, trying to think exactly what level of dress you actually needed for the event.

“Why don’t we go to the Pink Cat?” It was Senjuro, talking to his knees, face red from the cold. The name didn’t ring any bells for you, but Genya seemed to know the place. The car sprang to life, heat blasting from the front as Genya departed from the estate. You sat back with a small smile, thanking Senjuro quietly.  The boy shrugged, his cheeks flushing deeper red as he looked out the window. 

The drive was quiet, the most noise coming from Rui who would occasionally lean over and offer up spider facts. The boy knew a surprising amount of things about spiders. You listened amused, wondering if it was possible to get him a tutor. He was smart and you hated the idea of the boy wasting his time puttering about a dull estate. 

“We’re here.” Genya called as the car slowed. He had pulled into a small parking lot next to a rather tall building. It glittered like a beetle, the mirrored glass reflecting the cold January clouds. You stepped from the car, looking up at the building. It was rather imposing for a clothing place. 

“Second floor is us.” Senjuro spoke softly as you began walking across the parking lot. You nodded in response, trying not to run to the building. In the short drive the air had somehow gotten colder, you shivered with each step. The walk though short had you chilled to the bone. The warm air of the lobby almost hurt as it hit you, your entourage also shivering as they quickly followed.

The interior of the mirrored building was warm and bright. It was an office building or sorts. The directory that sat squarely in the middle listed 5 floors with different offices and small businesses. You noted that floor 2 was the only one with a single business listed, ‘Pink Cat Boutique’.

Stepping into the nearby elevator, you waited as the three bustled in, the boys following you like ducklings. The thought of the 4 of you dressed like ducks nearly made you laugh, it was absurd. The ride to the second floor was quick, the sliver elevator barely making any noise as it ascended. As the doors slid open, your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Pink, the walls, floor, everything, bright pink. Rows of chairs sat against the wall, their tone slightly deeper. Even the water cooler and vending machine were pink. You stepped out of the elevator, mouth parting slightly as you took in the bubblegum colored shag rug that looked to cover the entire floor. Shock wasn’t the right word, no, you were impressed by this level of decor. 

“Hi!” You blinked at the cheerful voice, realizing embarrassed, that there was a receptionist desk. She had just watched you stumble out of the elevator open mouthed like an idiot. 

“Do you have an appointment?” The woman chirped cheerfully, her perfect green nails poised above her keyboard as she waited expectantly. Her shining white hair and makeup were perfect like her smile, a stark contrast to your little group of red faced boys.

“Uh, no, sorry.” You felt slightly embarrassed for some reason. This place was immaculately put together and you felt incredibly under prepared. 

“That’s ok!” The woman grinned at you, her fingers moving at lightning speed as she typed something in. “We always accept walk-ins here when we can!” 

You nodded silently, glancing at the corner of your eyes at Senjuro. This was not a place you thought a teenage boy would know about. Though who were you to judge someone else’s tastes, you were currently wearing an outfit picked out by his father. 

“Ok you are in luck!” The receptionist chirped, flashing you her radiant smile. “We have a free block from now till about 3pm. So you can shop at your leisure!” 

You nodded, following as she motioned the four of you to follow her as she stood. Leaving the small waiting area, you entered a wide open boutique floor. There were rack after rack of fine clothing, mannequins displayed in various evening gowns. Despite the bright and rather fluffy decor, they had some seriously expensive fine wear available. You winced as you passed a price tag, the dress cost as much as your college tuition had. 

“So this is the floor, everything on the racks and on display is for sale. Ms. Mitsuri is here somewhere so if you need ANY help just holler!” 

You smiled at the young woman, “Thank you so much.” She nodded in response, skipping back to the front desk. You sighed, shoulder slumping slightly as you took in the many choices. Where to start?

“I’m going to look for spiders.” Rui stated quietly, slipping his hand from yours. The boy was like a rocket, scurrying across the floor. Genya laughed, chasing after him. You sighed, turning back to try and find a starting point.

Red or yellow would be preferable. Matching Kyojuro was the idea and the decor to a lesser extent. You looked at your nails, they shimmered slightly, the gold paint tinged with glitter. Kanao had done a fabulous job as usual. Perhaps a gold dress would look good, though faux metallic fabric often felt awful.

“I can help if you want?” You blinked as Senjuro spoke softly to your right. He wasn’t quite looking at you, his eyes focused on the twisting of his own hands. Turning to the boy you nodded with a small smile. He was more used to this world of finery than you were, his input was greatly appreciated. “I would love that.”

He smiled, quickly looking at you before scurrying over to a clothing rack. You turned to the nearest wall of fabric, scanning it for anything red. There was a single dress, which you tugged free. An immediate no, you grimaced at the mini skirt. You were trying to be daring but not this much. 

“How about this?” You turned at Senjuro’s call, making a face at what he held in his arms. A straight up banana costume sat in his arms. The boy looked incredibly amused, his lips twitching as he tried and failed to keep a straight face. You wondered if Kyojuro’s eyebrows also wiggled like caterpillars when trying not to laugh. Even though it had been about a week, you still couldn’t believe how much they looked alike.

“Do you think I should wear pearls or gold with that?” You tried keeping your face serious, though you knew your voice gave away your teasing. Senjuro laughed, clasping his hand over his mouth as he giggled. It made your heart feel light. Placing it back on the rack he shook his head.

“No, you're too elegant for that.” He paused, his expression growing sad again, “As much as father would like to see you humiliated.”

His words made your heart drop. Senjuro was right of course. But his words carried such a strong mix of resentment and sadness that it hurt to hear. You reached out to touch his arm, too late, as he was already trudging over to another rack. The way his shoulders slumped and head bowed you could tell he was trying not to cry. You decided not to press him, the boy seemed like a glued together vase, even a gentle word might be enough to have him shatter. 

As you slowly made your way from display to rack, to display, you found yourself growing disheartened. Sure there were evening gowns that would pass for the night. Ball Gowns that maybe were a little too much but still appropriate. However they all felt like they were missing something. You couldn’t put your finger on just what was missing, every dress just looked wrong despite the elegant fabrics and graceful designs.

“Hi-ya!” You nearly jumped out of your skin at the cheerful voice that seemingly floated from nowhere. Glancing about you and Senjuro shared a look of confusion, neither of you able to locate the person.

“Ooops! My bad, I'm stuck!” You glanced to your left and nearly shrieked, a woman’s face was peeking out between the dresses, her cheeks red with embarrassment.  For someone who was stuck, she was incredibly cheerful about it. 

You walked over, inspecting the situation. The young woman's pink hair was tangled in the hangers, the thick braids snagged awkwardly on the metal. You carefully undid the hair, feeling bad as her beautiful braids quickly became a mess. She stood with a smile, quickly undoing the messy braids. You noted the tinge of green at the bottom, it was a good look on her. Without realizing it your own hand had gone to your hair and you quickly dropped it. Bright cheerful colors were not something you could ever do, no matter how much you might want neon hair. 

“I'm Mitsuri! Owner of the boutique. Watcha’ looking for?” She was so cheerful, hands moving at a lightning pace as she fixed her braids. You looked around at the clothing for a moment, then sigh, letting your shoulders slump.

“To be honest, I don’t know.” You shrugged. The other woman motioned at you expectantly and you paused before proceeding to explain the event. Detailing out the theme and your wish to match in a way with your husband, you felt your cheeks flush. Stating all of this out loud made it sound childish to your ears. But the other woman showed no signs of feeling the same. Mitsuri listened avidly, hand on her chin as she nodded along. The moment you stopped talking, she sprang into action, racing across the room excitedly.

You followed slowly, curious to see what the bright woman had opted for. She was like a little pink bee, flitting from rack to rack until finally she stopped. 

“Tada!!” She whirled around, a deep crimson dress in hand. You raised your eyebrows at it. The dress had an A-Line skirt, long sleeves and a scoop back that would show off everything. It was elegant and also incredibly simple. 

“So thought process.” Mitsuri chirped, wiggling the dress on its hanger. “It's an anniversary party. You are one of the main players.”

You nodded as she spoke, reaching out and feeling the soft fabric. It was surprisingly soft to the touch. Your fingertips danced over the fabric and you bit your bottom lip in thought as you listened to the excited shop owner.

“All eyes on you, BUT, elegant, simple, lady of the hour.” Mitsuri twirled dramatically, one of her brains nearly smacking Senjuro in the face. The boy was blushing furiously, nodding along as she continued. 

“You stand out in a way that no other hoe will.” 

You blinked at her choice of words, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. She was right in a way. There would be other women there, other men. And like with a lot of Shinjuro’s gala’s, plenty of gaudy outfits. If the monstrosity that had been sent to you was any indication of the bar that had been sent, the main hall would be full of similarly horrible outfits. Something simple would set you apart. 

“So deep crimson, pair it with gold jewelry, hair up. You will be the picture of elegance.” Mitsuri pulled a tape measure from her pocket, quickly stepping in and motioning you to remove your coat. You did so, passing it to Senjuro as the other woman quickly took your measurements. She moved like lightning, humming with each number until finally she was turning back to the rack of crimson fabric. Mitsuri searched for a moment, looking at each dress’s tag carefully before tugging one free.

“This should fit like a glove.” You took the offered dress, letting her walk you to the nearby dressing room that was hidden behind a fluffy pink curtain. Slipping inside, you stared at yourself in the full length mirror. The woman who started back was a stranger, as always. The winter wear of a turtleneck and a thick skirt with heels looked odd on you. Stuffy and stiff.

Shaking your head, you quickly pulled them all off. You avoided looking in the mirror, knowing that a stranger would look back at you regardless of your state of dress. 

Gently taking the red dress, you slipped it on, shivering at the chill that ran down your spine. The opening was daring, swooping low, nearly reaching your tailbone. It stopped just short of it, red buttons neatly closing the fabric. You noted the built in bra with appreciation, making this dress an easy wear.

Turning to and fro you inspected yourself. The dress did indeed fit you like a glove. It showed your curves in a flattering way, not too tight, not too loose. Just right. The fabric twisted with you, barley wrinkling anywhere despite your attempts to make it do so. It hung perfectly and without weight, as if spun from the softest cloud. Nothing in your closet even came close to this.

You looked elegant. Already you could picture the long gold earrings and the delicate gold chains you could wear. Perhaps gold heels as well, to give a flash of color with each step you took. This was the look. 

“Looking good!” Mitsuri had popped her head through the curtain, smiling wide at your small twirl to show her the full dress. 

“Thank you.” You motioned to the fabric, “In literally seconds you found the perfect dress.”

The other woman giggled, shrugging, “It's my job!” 

She left you to redress, tugging the changing room curtain closed. You changed back into your stuffy clothing quickly. In contrast the outfit felt rough, unbending. Running a finger along the wool of your skirt you wondered momentarily how it would be to dress each day in something you had picked. 

Suppressing a sigh you straightened your skirt hem. A pipe dream if there ever was one. After tomorrow you would be lucky if Shinjuro didn’t lock you in a basement with nothing to wear but a bedsheet. At the very least you would once again be assigned watchful “staff” to dress you up like the doll you were supposed to be.

Carefully placing the dress back on its hanger, you left the dressing room.  Your small entourage waited across the floor, all three boys flushing furiously in the presence of the vibrant Mitsuri. She seemed none the wiser, clapping excitedly as you joined the small group. They all gave you thumbs up of approval when you showed them the choice. 

The choice felt a little less right as you were quoted the price, your jaw dropping at the 5 figure price tag. As you tugged your card from your wallet your hands shook, the price bouncing about your skull like a warning. A mean little part of you reminded you it was Shinjuro’s money and therefore all the better to spend such a ridiculous amount. It fought the meek part of you, your brain insisting that this was just one more little ‘Fuck you’ to the old bastard. 

The feeling won, the card being passed to Mitsuri with confidence. After, of course, your skirt had been tugged at, Rui asking innocently for a small gold spider brooch. Purchases in hand, you had all bundled back into the car, your hands sweating slightly as you clung to the dress bag. It felt like you were holding a bomb of sorts. The garment bag somehow felt heavier than the awful magenta mess you had held up earlier.

The drive back and the rest of the evening your heart was pounding. The dress felt like a beacon. The last straw that would tip you and the rest of the estate into Shinjuro’s bad graces for life. The hellfire of his wrath swirled through your mind, his face twisted in rage.

Dinner had passed too quickly, your meal sitting in your stomach like a brick. The sweating of your palms and the racing of your heart continued. Each tick of the clock, each small movement of the hour hand brought you closer and closer to the next day.

As you lay in bed the question of ‘is this worth it?’ kept swimming around your head. The dark ceiling reflected back silence. You weren’t so sure now, your stomach in knots as you tried and failed to come up with solutions to each of the possible reactions Shinjuro would have. But there was no solution, only fear and anxiety. Tomorrow you would pay dearly.

You wished for Kyojuro.

Part 5

[lphoenixspiritl]

MaiLee Mischief

The dressing room's carved double doors flew open unable to contain the heaps of tulle and organza flowing from its frame.

Her dress was like a blush peony bursting into bloom. The voluminous skirts done in layers of pinks and ivory topped with a satin, cherry blossom bodice that hugged her sides.

Gone was her long signature braid, instead, her wavy brown tresses hung to her waist, pearl jeweled flower pins decorating her locks.

A dusting of rose graced her cheeks giving them a slight blush, and her long lashes laid upon them like the finest lace.

"Do you like it?" The question was surprisingly shy from the normally exuberant Ty Lee.

Out of the corner of her eye Katara could see the blush rising in Mai's alabaster cheeks, her eyes widening in awe. On the noblewoman's other side sat Toph making no effort to contain the cackling that rocked her sides.

"Don't worry Bubbles," Toph managed between breaths, "Ms.No Face loves it."

Suki stood silently, leaned against the doorframe a smirk on her lips. Maybe there was hope for these two after all.

Artist: Riverhailed